


A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Mojave

by AlhanaStarbreeze



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Tropes, tropes galore, tropes tropes and more tropes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-16
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2020-10-20 05:24:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20670032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlhanaStarbreeze/pseuds/AlhanaStarbreeze
Summary: After Talos IV, Christopher Pike has been diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder. He's decided, assisted with Kat Cornwell's direct order, to take a road trip.  It'll just be him and the open road until he returns home to Mojave. Quiet is what he needs to get his head screwed on straight again.His father's favorite Biblical quote - Make plan, God laughs.Turns out God's got a pretty vicious sense of humor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> TY Fiona

"Ohmygod!" Tilly squeaked to Michael after their first shift with Captain Pike. "I am so doomed."

"He seemed to enjoy you complimenting his nailbeds." Michael couldn’t help but smile at Tilly.

"It's NOT that!" Tilly protested as she ran into their shared quarters. She waited for the door to close before she collapsed face first on her bed. Sylvia then exploded verbally, "Do you remember that one night we all did Truth or Shots."

"Yes," Michael slowly confessed as the night was very hazy. “I remember part of it.”

"And I mentioned how I lost my virginity? How I got slipped tranquilizers at this bar and these two older guys and this lady rescued me? One was a cranky grandfather. The lady was crazy smart and the other guy was smoking hot though a bit of a curmudgeon. We had a couple adventures, there were multiple times the cops were involved but all the charges were dropped, plus there was an incident with an armadillo and I think I mentioned that I gave Grouchy my v-card?"

Michael tilted her head, saw how Tilly was reacting now, how Pike had responded to her on the bridge… with a warm, amused smile and then she shook her head when the sums tallied up. "**_No..._**"

" ** _Yes_ ** !"

* * *

** _Acute Stress Disorder can include intrusive memories, avoidance, negative thoughts and symptoms of changes in physical and emotional reactions. Other symptoms can include:_ **

** _Trying to avoid thinking or talking about the traumatic event_ **

** _Self-destructive behavior, such as drinking too much or driving too fast_ **

** _Trouble sleeping_ **

** _Trouble concentrating_ **

** _Irritability, angry outbursts or aggressive behavior_ **

** _Overwhelming guilt or shame_ **

** _Emotional detachment. _ **

* * *

The Beginning - 

Cadet Sylvia Tilly shook her head at Romana. “You’re wearing that?”

Well, Romana could get away with wearing something that consisted of a piece of fabric with two pieces of string, because she was long, sleek and all the many things Tilly was not. And while her roomie was her complete opposite, she had invited Tilly on her spring vacation. As Tilly had no place to go, plus she had the credits to pay for their room, well, she went along. 

“Yes,” Romana purred. “It’s your birthday. Let’s go drinking and dancing. I know this great bar!”

** _I. Feeling detached from family and friends, lack of interest in activities you once enjoyed, always being on guard for danger. _ **

It was not a great bar, Christopher Pike decided. It was distinctively seedy but a sophisticated sleazy. Never had he thought that he’d use those two words to describe a place, but this place was dodgy but… high class. Fortunately, the conversation was non-existent and the beer was cold. 

Good enough.

However, the place made his skin crawl.

** _Kat Cornwell shook her head. “You’re on leave for the next two weeks. I don’t want you anywhere near StarFleet. You need a break, Chris, or you will break. I don’t even recognize you anymore. Your frustration, your self-directed anger. Get out of uniform, go have fun. You do remember how to have fun? Look back to when you had shore leave before Rigel, before Talos. This is an order, as I’m putting you on leave for your Acute Stress Disorder. If you don’t take the leave _ ** ** _willingly_ ** ** _, I will put you in the hospital under article 94B.”_ **

That’s why he was in a bar because he didn’t want to be involuntarily committed to a hospital for Space Shock. He walked up to the bartender, gestured and was soon given another equally cold beer. There was a kid wearing dental floss and a gauze pad, sitting next to a fiery red head who was not wearing dental floss and a gauze pad. 

“It’s her birthday,” Dental Floss explained to the bartender. “What do you recommend?”

A sippy cup? Chris thought mentally as the kid looked like she needed to be carded. However, it seemed today was the Big Birthday where Red could get legally shit-faced and wake up tomorrow regretting deeply her life choices. Therefore, it behooved him to help the process.

“Two glasses of Risan champagne,” Pike ordered. The bartender reached for one bottle and Pike shook his head. “That’s rotgut. Third bottle on the left on the top shelf. One for the birthday girl and the other for…”

“Romana,” gushed Dental Floss. 

The drinks were served and Chris raised his beer, first to Red and then to Dental Floss. “Happy birthday,” he stated. He even attempted a grin, but Red shivered. He couldn’t blame her; he had forgotten how to smile.

** _II. Feeling emotionally numb, especially in events that would have normally caused you to emotionally respond. _ **

Chris shot a couple rounds of pool, threw some darts, had another beer for a total of three, which was his limit in a strange bar. Just enough to keep him comfortably numb and detached from the world at large. It was getting rowdy at the bar, and Dental Floss was busy dancing and shaking whatever her mama gave her. She was giddy and loud and… possibly on something recreational… to his jaundiced eye, honed by years of dealing with stupid ensigns on their first shore leave. 

Even as he watched Dental Floss, she decided to hurry off with her new friends, leaving Red behind.

** _III. Being constantly on guard for threats. Be it yours or someone else. Everyday events remind you of the previous trauma._ **

A quick eyeball of the room showed Red was still at the bar. She was surrounded by several men, and she seemed out of it. 

_ Vina… surrounded by the Talosians… forced against her will to play in their little charade.  _

One of them was getting a little too fresh for Pike’s taste, so he put down his beer, contacted a rather peeved Phil Boyce and a bemused Una for backup, advised them of the situation, what he needed, how many cops to send, and then he walked to the bar.

Kat would be proud of him, as he was helping out someone in trouble.

Or would she just point it out as an example of his hypervigilance? 

“Red!” he yelled. “Red!”

The redhead turned to face him and her eyes were glazed and … fuck to hell, she was TranqD. Probably Andorian tranquilizers, of which there was a bad strain going around. Fuck it, he had to intervene. 

“You promised me a dance when I bought your birthday drink. Time to pay up!” He insisted. 

The boys protested, he asserted that she  ** _owed_ ** him a dance as he hadn’t skimped on the champagne and Red focused on him enough to whisper, “Help?” 

He pulled, carried, manhandled her as she staggered to a clear spot on the dance floor and then instructed her to hold on tight. The boys weren’t happy and before long there would be a brawl. Fortunately, the police were on the way. 

“Meet you at my hotel, Una,” Chris stated as he hit the transporter beacon. Thank God he had managed to obtain a suite at Hotel Swanky that had its own private transporter.

** _III. You have difficulty experiencing positive emotions. You have noticeable changes in physical and emotional reactions. _ **

Una sprung to action, and helped him place Red on a couch. Phil had his tricorder out and he was busy scanning Red. However, first things first, as Phil always focused on the important issues.

“How the hell did you get into this hotel?” Phil wanted to know. “How can you afford this on your salary? Isn’t she a little young for you? And when did you have to start tranq’ing your dates?”

“There’s not a lot of rooms available right now, Phil. What with it being spring break and all. There was a fight at the check-in counter and I got it straightened out. In return, they canceled his reservation and gave me his suite for free.”

“In other words, you winked and dimpled at guy at the counter?” Una asked. “I’ve told you to use your powers for good, not to get a complimentary suite upgrade.”

“You wound me,” Chris protested. “Anyway, it’s Red’s 21 st birthday and she got tranq’d. Her friend ditched her in that condition. They might have been planning on robbing her or worse. She looks like she’s got money.”

His voice was flat, expressionless. Somewhere down deep, he wondered if he should feel…  ** _angry_ ** … He should feel something… right? Rather than just an overwhelming sense of….  ** _nothing_ ** .

“She’d probably be dead, actually. They gave her enough to knock out a Nausicaan,” Boyce stated.    
“She’ll wish she was dead when she wakes from this.”

“Phil!” Una protested. “Really?”

“I’ll give her something for the headache but it will make her very talkative,” Phil explained.

“Not my circus, not my clown car, certainly not my drugged red-headed clown. Once the cops arrive here, Red’s all theirs. I’ve got the details of the likely candidates that slipped her the drugs and they should be arrested by now as they probably brawled when I took Red away. I made sure that you two had notified the cops before I grabbed Red.”

There was a ping at the door, and Pike sighed. It was an expression of him being completely and utterly done with the entire incident. “Let me talk to the cops.”

“On the positive side, he did intervene,” offered Una once Pike began to talk to the cops.

“Bullshit, subconsciously, he’s saving Vina,” Boyce protested. “I’m scared to death we’re gonna lose him. He wasn’t even angry when he discussed how her friend left her in this condition. The old Pike would have blown a gasket, knocked some heads together and then gotten really angry.”

Una exhaled slowly. “I’ve had to deal with irritable Pike since before Talos. I don’t know which one is worse, to be honest. There were a few times I was tempted to throw him out the airlock, especially that one comment about women on the bridge. I know he was impersonating Cranky Admiral Quinn, but he wasn’t funny.”

“This one, as he’s run out of the energy required to be angry. He’s putting one foot down in front of the other, plodding along.”

** _IV. You have negative thoughts about yourself, other people or the world. Rightfully so, it seems._ **

Chris spoke with the cops, including an officer Flannigan who seemed to have some sense. Then they roused Sleeping Beauty aka Princess Red for her interview. That done, he informed her that he’d escort her back to her hotel room. 

“Is the Earth rotating faster than normal?” Red asked him.

“No, it’s actually slowed down two point three seconds in the last hour,” he lied.

“You’re very perceptive,” Red informed him in a very slow, exaggerated tone, as though in a futile attempt to prove to someone, anyone, that she wasn’t as drunk as she was. Alas, however, she was absolutely stinking polluted. 

“You’re really drunk,” was his response. “Where are you staying?”

“Are you taking advantage of me?” She asked. “You probably could, because I’m exceedingly drunk right now, plus you’re hot but really scary. Do you have a name?”

“No,” Chris retorted. 

“That’s so sad,” Red insisted. Her eyes were full of tears. “Your parents didn’t name you? Ok, I’ll call you Mr. Hot and Scary.”

“No, you won’t,” he protested.

“Mr. Tall, Dark, Lanky and Scowly?” was her next suggestion.

He didn’t even bother to voice a protest, but she wasn’t drunk enough to miss the warning in his eyes. 

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Red then gave him a salute that would have given her a lengthy jail term on Andoria.

Chris pinched his nose, in a futile attempt to ward off a headache.

“Where’s your hotel?”

Her hotel was nearby. Fortunately.

However, her room was ransacked, most of the furniture was broken beyond repair and the safe was wide open. Her roomie was quite utterly naked in the wreckage of the hotel room. From the way the bedsheets were torn, it had been quite the night for her.

“Can you please cover her?” he asked Red even as he turned to face the wall. “Before the cops get here?”

\------

“You two again?” Office Flannigan asked after a hysterical Red realized that ALL her MONEY was GONE as it HAD BEEN in the SAFE which was now OPEN and EMPTY. Flannigan flinched when Red hit a rather shrill note in her distress. 

“You know how they say, ‘No Good Deed Goes Unpunished’?” Chris asked dryly.

The cop nodded her head.

“They ain’t lying,” Chris stated.

The hotel manager did not take kindly to the fact that Romana had destroyed her hotel room. She was arrested and carted off to jail, never to be heard from or seen again (THANK GOD) and the manager focused on Red. While Chris was more than willing to let Red deal with the entire mess, and be done with it, a small part of Chris’s conscience was reminding him that Josh and Wilma Pike hadn’t raised their son to ditch a damsel in distress. 

** _Thanks a lot, Papa. _ **

“She wasn’t here,” Chris protested.

“I don’t want to go to jail, Captain,” Red protested tearfully. “I won’t last a minute in the Big House. I’ll meet a female Nausican named Bubba and then I’ll be her bitch.”

“Captain?” Flannigan questioned over Red’s hysterical sobs.

“I refuse to give her my name,” Chris explained. 

“Smart,” was the murmured response. “What were the other choices?”

“Mr. Hot and Scary,” Red added helpfully. “Mr. Tall, Dark, Lanky and Scowly?”

“Too long, though somewhat appropriate, if I swung that way,” the cop agreed. “So,  ** _Captain Scary_ ** , can we turn custody of little Miss Drunk and Disorderly over to you for tonight?”

The cop deliberately took his grimace as agreement.

\------  


As he feared, Boyce and Una had waited for his return. Had helped themselves to his minibar, also, he noted. 

“She’s back?” Una questioned.

“It’s like you adopted a drugged, dopy Irish Setter puppy,” Boyce harrumphed. “I’ll put papers down in case she pees on the floor.”

“You’re  ** _mean_ ** ,” Red informed Boyce. “No wonder you and Captain are  ** _together_ ** .”

“Captain?” Una murmured, complete with arched eyebrow.

“He won’t tell me his name,” Red stated. “He acts like he’s in charge and we should salute him. Aye, Aye Captain Smiley!”

She saluted, sloppily, and nearly went ass over tit.

“To protect the not-so-innocent, I won’t give her my name,” Pike inserted even as Red asked excitedly who topped who? 

“I do,” Una stated.

“Can I watch? That sounds like  ** _fun_ ** ,” Red admitted, complete with big eyes. “I’m sure you can keep the boys in line.”

“No, I’m shy,” Pike insisted even as Boyce hypo’d Red into blessed, sweet silence. Then he turned towards Una as he dragged Red towards the extra bedroom, “Don’t encourage her. She’s gotten into enough trouble.”

With a gentleness that he managed to locate somewhere down deep, he plopped Sleeping Beauty into bed. 

Fully clothed.

He took her shoes off. Just because he didn’t want to pay for a new duvet, ok?

“Don’t say a single, solitary word,” Pike ordered Boyce and Una as he left Little Miss Drunk and Disorderly in her bed. She was snoring and drooling, already. 

God, he envied her, as lately he was lucky to get two… three hours… of uninterrupted sleep. No, lately, he was haunted by… Rigel… Talos… his father…

“Not I, said the fly,” Boyce retorted.

“That was five words,” Pike protested in vain. 

“Seriously, Chris. I thought you were taking a vacation?” Boyce asked. 

“I am. I’m picking up the car tomorrow… I am taking a long drive. Solo. ”

Boyce nodded, and squeezed him, briefly, on his shoulder. “Can you please get some sleep tonight? I can give you something?”

“Had three beers, so hopefully it will take the edge off enough for me to sleep.”

_ **V. ** _ ** _You have difficulty sleeping as you relive the traumatic event repeatedly. _ **

He was awake for most of the night, tossing, turning but finally drifted off to sleep. He woke when the perimeter alarm sounded. 

Oh, the perimeter alarm?

He had set it up on Red’s bedroom, just because… well… because she was a handful. 

At one time, he would have laughed, as the sight of her in bare feet, clad in yesterday’s clothes. She had her shoes in her one hand, and she was tiptoeing out in a futile attempt at a quiet egress. 

“Doing the walk of shame, Red?” He questioned. 

She turned to face him, and her pale complexion turned even whiter.

“Oh, sweet Jesus, you do exist.”

“I take it last night wasn’t good for you?” He quipped. “But… you told me that you loved me? That last night was the best sex you ever had?”

That wasn’t funny, Chris, he mentally chastised himself. He was trying too hard to be the old Chris. As far as he knew, that Chris was still on Talos IV. God, he wished Una was here, as she’d elbow him in the ribs. 

The look on Red’s face was one of complete horror. She dropped her shoes, and gasped, “Fuck me, I lost my virginity last night and I don’t remember a damn thing? Especially a smoking hot guy like you? Was that before or after the police?”

“How much do you remember about last night? The multiple episodes with the cops? And…You’re a virgin?” Pike questioned.

“Was!” she announced proudly as she pointed her hands in his general direction. Her mind immediately switched gears which left him with verbal whiplash. “We did use contraceptives? I have plans for my life, and a baby isn’t one of them. Least not right now, not with a perfect stranger, no matter how hot. Am I drugged? Because my filter, never one of my best features, is completely shot to shit. Like how the hell did you not know I was a virgin?”

Pike surrendered to the universe that was determined to squash him like a bug. 

“Can you shut up for just a minute?” he requested.

She put her lips together in what had to be a herculean effort as her eyes grew more and more wide eyed.

“I didn’t touch you last night. My feeble attempt at being funny, failed.”

“Miserably!” she exploded. At his glare, she put her lips back together and then pinched them shut with her fingers.

“Long story short. You got slipped something. Your roommate is in jail, I saved you from that, so remember that.”

He started talking faster, as she appeared to be in significant physical pain from having to keep her mouth shut.

“I am planning on leaving town shortly. Who can I turn you over to?” Chris asked. “Yes, now you can talk.”

Explosive verbal diarrhea occurred. 

Dad was out near Alpha Theta Beta 27, Grandparents, who were the only people who’d she even think of calling, were out near the Galactic Core and the less said about dear old mum, the better. However, he was on the receiving end of the verbal epiphany that pretty much came down to Telling Mum Bad. Bad. Bad.

But she was out in the outer rings.

He nodded his head at what he hoped was the correct spots, and when she finally took a breath, he interrupted her.

“Do you have any money for a hotel room?” He asked.

Bam, he was back on the verbal merry-go.

Long story short, the two of them were back at the police department.

“It’s Captain Scowly,” was his warm greeting from Flannigan, who was enjoying this clusterfuck entirely too much. “Plus the drugged Damsel!”

“They cleaned out her bank account, and she doesn’t have enough money for a hotel room as the bank says they’ll reverse the charges but it may take up to five days,” Pike explained. “What can I do with her?”

“I think she needs to be adopted,” Flannigan offered. “Or put in one of those plastic gerbil balls so she can’t get hurt.”

“Et tu, Flanny?” Pike snapped. “I need a real answer, as I can’t leave her on the street. They’ll eat her alive.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Red sitting on a bench. There was a very drunk Orion who was sidling closer and closer to her, and she kept moving away from him. Her expressive eyes were quite alarmed and she clutched her bag tighter to her chest. 

Flannigan spat out something extremely crude in a foreign language and the Orion immediately inched his way back over the state line.

“You speak Orion?” Pike questioned.

“Star Fleet retired,” Flannigan explained. “Seriously, Sir. I know who you really are, this isn’t your bailiwick. Why are you helping the kid out?”

“Somebody needs to,” he explained. 

She nodded. “We’ve got some temporary homeless shelters. I can put a word in so she can get into one of the nicer ones?”

“Would you put your kid sister there?” Pike questioned. 

“No.”   
  


** _VII. Taking on additional, almost excessive responsibilities, because while you’re falling apart, you can at least fix something. _ **

  
“Flannigan was able to help get you into this temporary housing situation. Keep checking with your bank, hopefully they can get your money back sooner so you can get a decent hotel until you can get back into your dorm,” Chris instructed her.

Red nodded. 

“I really want to thank you. For keeping an eye out on me. I know I’m annoying and I know I ruined your vacation and I’m sorry. But not completely sorry, because without you, something really bad would have happened to me. I thought Ramona was my friend but she wasn’t,” Red confessed in a single, solitary breath.

Pike felt something jab him with a pointy stick. 

“I’m sorry that I’ve been an absolute bastard. I have a lot going on, and I’m exhausted. You’ll taken a great deal of my energy that I don’t have these days,” Pike quasi-apologized. 

“No need to apologize. I know I’m a pain,” Red softly admitted. 

To his surprise, she hugged him. Tightly. 

“Thank you for keeping an eye out for me,” she whispered. 

He gave up then and there. Because he knew that he wasn’t the type of man to leave a scared kid in a homeless shelter. Oh, he tried mightily, not to break but he saw her terror when they looked at the shelter. Full of aliens, full of noise, and Red was shaking in trepidation within minutes. 

They’d eat her alive. 

“Would you like to go to Mojave with me?” He asked. 


	2. Fear and Loathing in Mojave

Sylvia finally ceased talking about the time she had met Christopher Pike, as she realized that HELLO! She had monopolized the conversation for the last twenty minutes.

Michael Burnham had changed into her pajamas and was curled up in her bed.

“Seriously, you’re leaving it at that? You’re stopping the story at he offered to take you to Mojave? After he rescued you from a homeless shelter? Plus, this Captain Pike, doesn’t sound like THAT Captain Pike. Tall, dark and scowly? I can see cranky… but scowly? Smiley, yes.”

“And lanky,” Tilly offered. “But he’s …. Perfectly… proportioned… except for…”

She waved her hands and giggled. Happily.

“He’s got a Mark 3 Phaser strapped to his leg. Check out his uniform pants. Hung… thy name is Christopher Pike.”

Michael opened her mouth to protest at that safety hazard and then she realized what Tilly meant. She placed her pillow over her head, but carefully left one ear uncovered and then instructed Tilly to sally forth with her story. She wasn't being a voyeur, she just needed to know everything about their new Captain. And EVERYTHING meant EVERYTHING.

* * *

Sylva returned to her story where the man she had nicknamed Captain had decided to rescue her from the homeless shelter.

“Thank you for saving me back there. I don’t think I would have lasted very long because I’m not very tough. Someone looks at me cross-eyed and I get teary.”

Pike glanced her way and the red head bounced away from him in what had to be pretend fear. It just had to be fake, because he was a very pleasant individual. Wasn’t he? Everyone had always remarked on how personable he was.

Well, maybe there had been significantly fewer comments about his amiable nature in the last few months.

Ok, maybe there had been none. Ok? Ok.

Maybe in fact, there have been more than a few comments made regarding looking in the lost and found for his former personality.

“Yes, just that look! So where are we going? Mojave? I’ve never heard of it.” Red bounced in her excitement.

“First: hat with a chin cord, some sunglasses and some sort of sunblock. You’ll be burnt to a crisp if you don’t wear sunblock. Second: coffee.”

Perhaps he’d get her a sippy cup with chocolate milk as her eyes lit up at the magic word ‘Coffee’. He felt a tremor of true fear, as though he was trapped in an alien cell. He fought that thought down, hard.

“I don’t have any money,” Red reminded him.

“I know,” Pike stated. “Here. Take this and get what you need for the next five days. I anticipate that you will pay me back.”

He handed her fifty credits. “Don’t go crazy, that is all your money for the day.”

“Thanks for the allowance, Dad!” She bubbled as she meandered off.

God, he hated her. 

He wasn’t old enough to be her father. 

No, really. He wasn’t.

* * *

He caught Red about to check out.

“Let’s see what you have,” he stated. He reviewed the purchases, nodded his approval on most items, but shook his head in displeasure at one. He handed the hat back to her.

“Chin cord,” he reminded her. “Else you’ll lose the hat midway through. Also, you’ll need something to subdue that hair. I have a convertible and I don’t want to lose control because your hair decides to attack me, Medusa.”

Red returned with a new hat which she modeled for him. He nodded his head, and waited for her to check out.

That done, he decided to reward himself with a cup of coffee and brunch.

Perhaps it was a mistake to order coffee, as Red ordered a quadruple espresso with milk alternative. Not one, but **_two_**.

“Are you planning on eating?” He asked her. “Or just freebasing that?”

“I have limited funds. I need to concentrate on the essentials,” she informed him. “Caffeine.”

He nodded his head, and then asked, “How do you prefer your eggs? Poached, sunny side up?”

“Scrambled,” she explained. “**_Poached_**?”

She shivered as apparently it was a texture issue, so Pike motioned for two Huevos divorciados. “One scrambled easy on the spices, second poached, thermonuclear. Sides of jalapeno corn bread, two aqua frescas.”

That done, he paid for the food. She could pay for her own jitter juice, so he took his coffee and found a table.

He took a long sip of coffee, plus one of the anti-anxiety pills that Boyce insisted he take. Phil promised him it would merely take the edge off but that he’d be able to function. Chris debated for a while then watched Red bounce excitedly at the counter while she waited for her jitter juice. Decision made then, as discretion was the better part of valor.

Red bounced over to the table and sat down. She placed her liquid drugs on the table, greeted him and then clasped one espresso in her hands. It seemed close to a religious experience. As he was a man of both faith and caffeine, he decided to watch her as an intent novitiate in the Church of the Blessed Morning Sacrament.

“Espresso – I release you,” she whispered before she closed her eyes, and took a sip.

Her response was almost orgasmic, which embarrassed him, as while it was a good cup of coffee, it wasn’t **_that_** good. She exhaled her release of tension with an obscene sound and then smiled beatifically. He looked at his own coffee before she opened her eyes because her sigh had… stirred something. How long had it been since he had heard that particular sound of utter bliss from another human being? How long had it been since he let his guard down?

** _Vina didn’t count. Vina didn’t count at all as she was just a manufactured decoy to trigger a sexual response from me in order to breed a race of slaves._ **

** _Red… Red… was real. Loud, talkative, exceedingly exhausting at times, but she was real. There wasn’t a single thread of duplicity in her entire body. Every reaction, every expression was organic and unrehearsed. _ **

** _No, no, no, no, Chris. No, no, no. _ **

“Have a lot of coffee that disappoints you?” he asked softly. To his deep surprise, he found himself interested in her answer. “Or just life in general?”

“I’m used to being the disappointment rather than the disappointed,” Red explained.

“Recent events have proven that you need better people in your life,” he offered.

The Huevos divorciados arrived then, and he thanked the server. Red stared at hers in some confusion.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s called divorced eggs. There are two eggs, each with a different type of salsa, refried beans, cheese, corn tortillas. I’ve had them here before, they’re really good and the cornbread is out of this world.”

Her look of disbelief made him shake his head.

“Eat it, don’t eat it. Up to you,” he informed her as he viciously sliced his poached eggs. She trembled as the yolk mixed with the salsa verde. He then took a healthy bite and chewed. After he swallowed, he took a hunk of cornbread and dabbed it in the gloopy mess. “You’re missing out. Explore your horizons.”

* * *

Brunch was surprisingly delicious, even though it consisted of food that she never would have willingly tried together. Captain Grouchy even made a herculean effort to be polite and pleasant with her. The effort must have caused him to pull an emotional muscle as he appeared pained… or was it … alarmed… when she finished off her second espresso.

That done, it was time to digest so she started asking questions. Lots of questions. Because questions led to answers, which in turn led to more questions. It’s just how her universe worked and she never understood why it didn’t work for the others like that.

“What’s in Mojave? Why are you going there? How long? When do we leave?”

“My family. I need to drop off a present to my father. A few days. Within the hour or so.”

“Do you have a big family? Why are you getting your dad a present? Is it his birthday? How long will we take to get there?”

* * *

Transportation consisted of an antique blue convertible with white racing stripes. Captain Grouchy touched it, gently and there was a look of pride in his eyes.

“It took me forever to refurb it, and I needed help,” he stated softly. “Josh should like it. I hope.”

He seemed lightyears away and then he snapped back to the future.

“Did you check with your bank yet?” he questioned.

“No funds,” she answered. “I checked twice.”

“Ok, then let’s go to Mojave. Got your sunblock applied?”

“Yes, Captain!” she assured him and gave him her very smartest cadet salute.

His response was a slight, crooked smile. It seemed that she had amused him.

“You do know how to smile!”

The smile disappeared. Immediately.

* * *

The car was low to the ground and the passenger compartment was tight. It also was a standard shift, so the Captain’s hand rested on the shifter, possessively. Which meant that ever so often his hand would brush against her leg. Accidentally.

Light teasing touches, which just made her hyper aware of the fact that she was currently in the midst of her ‘Soldier’ thing. 

He’d be really handsome if he just smiled once in a while. So naturally, she went verbose on him because OMG he was so fricking hot, and he answered or he didn’t, but she still kept talking.

The trip started off uneventfully. They were stuck in traffic for a bit, and then the open road. After a few hours, they pulled into a roadside diner. Captain again paid for lunch, but she refused to try the locally foraged mushroom soup with roasted tomatillos and organic cactus. Instead she went for a simple grilled cheese sandwich, fries and an espresso. Her mouth was in gear and the most the Captain did was comment that that his soup was interestingly spiced as he couldn’t quite figure out the seasoning.

“You live your life highly caffeinated, don’t you?” The Captain questioned as they split an order of churros.

She didn’t say anything because she knew what was coming next. Instead, she stared at her no longer quite as tasty churro.

“You also talk a great deal,” was his next comment. “Do you ever pause for breath? Do you think for the next hour or so you could keep your mouth shut? Unless I tell you otherwise? Because your voice is wiggling through my brain right now and it’s a very weird sensation.”

He giggled. It was an ungodly sound as he actually snorted.

“It tickles. Now on to Mojave,” he informed her.

Captain stepped out of the diner and he put his hands on his head. “Ok… something… seriously… fucked up….”

With a deliberate concentration, he managed to walk…. Stagger… to the car. He collapsed onto the hood and then stared at her.

“Your hair… looks like little red snakes…. and they’re angry at me…. hissing at me… I don’t know why…. Actually… I know… why…” the Captain giggled. “Find the cook. It’s …. Either…Psilocybin mushrooms or… mescaline from the cactus…. Might be both…. It’s been… forty minutes… or so… and everything’s going weird… the sky is pulsating and your eyes are… an almost sapphire blue… and I… could… drown in them if I’m not… careful…”

He pulled himself together but still continued to giggle. “Find out… how much… and the strength… Find out the nearest hospital or hotel.”

That ordered, he pulled out a flip communicator device and pleaded, “Philllllllllllllllllll?”

* * *

Phil Boyce had just finished one medicinal administration of alcohol to Number One, the acting Captain of the good ship USS Enterprise when his communicator sounded.

“Better not be Chris,” he growled at Una, who laughed. He then growled, “Boyce!”

“Phillllllllllllll….” The voice sounded like Christopher Pike but not Christopher Pike. “Help.”

Una’s smile disappeared, and she put down her drink.

“Chris?” Boyce questioned. “Why are you calling?”

“Got slipped Psilocybin or Mescaline or … maybe both… It’s… not so bad… so far… but… I feel pretty euphoric… but I’m… scared… if… the trip… goes bad… what… do I need to do…”

There was a loud burst of giggling. Male giggling.

“Is that Chris?” mouthed Number One.

Boyce nodded.

“Chris, you need to get a hospital. Quickly,” Boyce informed him.

“Hey, Medusa? Can you drive standard?” Pike then giggled. “Or maybe your little snakes know how?”

“Who is Medusa?” Boyce asked.

“You met Medusa. You know. Red. You know… did you slip me this shit, Medusa… because… I’ll be really pissed when this wears off if you did. Especially after I saved your… ass… So… report… Commander… Medusa….”

Another round of loud giggles and a gasping “God help that poor Captain… you’d talk to him death. But… he’d never leave you behind… because… that’s…what… good… captain do… even if you talk too much… or you’re sent… by those… butt-headed aliens to… start… a slave race…”

“Hello, this is Phil…. Is there someone actually there?” Boyce questioned. “Or are you a hallucination?”

Chris’ fit of giggles was not the least bit reassuring.

“I’m guessing if she doesn’t answer you, she’s a hallucination.” Una offered unhelpfully. Phil’s response was not in words, but his gesture was crystal clear. It started with the consonant F and end in the verb U.

Female voice. Young. Hesitant. “Hi?”

“What the fuck is going on?” Boyce snapped.

“The cook put his personal stash into the recipe. The cops are on the way, but… he doesn’t look pretty good all of a sudden. I think his trip is starting to go bad…. Captain? Captain? It’s me… Red…”

There was a strangled, “No, no… I’m **_not_** going back to the cell… you can’t make me….” and then the communicator went dead.

Una had already pulled out her PADD and began triangulating the coordinates.

“I’m contacting Kat, as she’s in San Fran,” Phil suggested.

* * *

_The Talosians came for him, and Chris fought. Fought hard, but they overwhelmed him. They restrained him, tortured him and still he fought as hard as he could. He ignored the hallucinations, ignored how the Talosians claimed to be police wanting to help him during a bad trip._

_Like hell would he be fooled again. He'd fight and this time... he wouldn't leave anyone behind... not even Red. _

* * *

It took Sylvia Tilly several attempts to start the car. Then far longer for her to actually get into gear. And well fuck everyone behind her that was honking their horns because she couldn’t get the damn thing out of second. By the time she reached the hospital, she was slightly faster than a sleepy, drunken sloth.

Not by much.

“Hi, I think you brought my friend in? Having a really bad reaction as he got drugged at Lou’s Diner? The last time I saw him, he was punching a few cops?” Tilly questioned.

Actually, he had kneed a cop in the groin.

“He is resting… in the ‘Quiet Room’,” the clerk announced in a very bored tone, though Tilly could hear the quotation marks.

* * *

There were eight cops with various bruises, cuts and lacerations who stood guard in front of the room. A large communication screen displayed an all too familiar face, Flannigan from the SF PD. As always, she appeared moderately dyspeptic, and just totally done with the world at large.

“Yes, I would take it as a professional courtesy if you would release him and dismiss the charges against him. I can personally vouch that he is not the type of man to attack a cop willingly. We have to ascribe his recent bad behavior to being drugged. I’ll be there momentarily to help resolve the issue. I just need to get to the next transporter.”

Tilly slipped past the guards and entered the room. The Captain was physically restrained to a bed, and he was whispering to himself, soft words that she couldn’t understand. He arched his back, and so help her, she saw the restraints begin to tear and the bed shake as he fought to free himself.

“Hey,” she whispered. Tilly repeated herself louder so he turned towards her.

“Are you real? Or are you an illusion?” he questioned. He was wild eyed and frantic as he struggled to escape. “Well, Andy? Is she real?”

“Who is Andy?” she questioned.

“The Talking Armadillo? You do see him, don’t you?” He questioned. “By the wall?”

She looked at the wall, where there was a picture of a happy armadillo wearing a sombrero. She gave it a brief wave and the Captain seemed to relax because she had fooled him into believing that she saw Andy, too.

“Yes, I see him,” she agreed.

“He sounds like Phil,” Captain admitted. He stared at the picture for some time, and then he relaxed. “He says I can trust you, even though you never shut up. He says that if you weren’t trustworthy, you would have already blabbed your evil plans for world domination.”

Tilly scrunched her nose, as she really didn’t like Andy. Who didn’t exist, but still, seemed to be a bit of a meanie?

“Well, thanks for that, Andy! Yes, I’m **_fucking_** real. Stop it, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Tilly protested.

“You must be real, or else their illusions are getting better,” was his cryptic response. He exhaled and closed his eyes. “Though like the last time, you’re attractive and I feel protective. However, the fact that you’re significantly younger makes me wonder what they’re finding in my mind. Fucking nosy bastards.”

“You are making absolutely no sense,” Tilly informed him.

“Said the lady with the red snakes for hair,” he retorted. “Seriously, however do you comb them? Are they poisonous? What species are you supposed to be? Are the harpies arriving next?”

“You were accidentally drugged. You’re having a bad reaction to it,” Tilly explained. “Please stop fighting.”

“I have to fight, else they’ll win. They don’t understand strong, base emotions.”

Tilly placed her hand on his chest, and whispered, “Please… stop fighting. You’ll just hurt yourself, and you want to get home to Mojave. You can’t do that if you hurt yourself. Shh…”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the doctor had arrived. She motioned for Tilly not to comment on her arrival as she had four hyposprays prepared.

Tilly then leaned close to him and whispered, “Please… stop fighting. You’ll just hurt yourself, and you want to get home to Mojave. You can’t do that if you hurt yourself. Shh…”

Hesitantly, she placed her free hand on his cheek. She began stroking his cheek, in a feeble attempt to give him some comfort. The physical contact seemed to steady him, as he closed his eyes.

The doc dosed him quickly, and he opened his eyes. His eyes were stoned but extremely pissed.

“I trusted you. Andy said I could trust you but he’s a fucking lying armadillo. We’re no longer friends, Andy! And I’m leaving you here, Medusa. You and your… little… snaky friends… can … stop.. hissing… at me…” His protest faded in volume but still his mouth moved in a futile protest.

In a few minutes, he had drifted off to sleep. The doctor exhaled and slumped her shoulders.

“What is he normally like?” she asked.

“He’s…” Tilly stopped for a moment and then added a not very helpful, “Complicated?”

The doctor rolled her eyes. “We’re not talking about your relationship.”

“He’s old enough to be my father,” spat Tilly. “There is no relationship between us. No sex. Nada.”

“Is he sane? Because he was bat shit off the walls when he came in. Screaming about aliens using him for breeding stock for a slave race… plus he took out half the police force even after they stun phasered him,” the doctor glanced at the comatose individual who was both chemically sedated and physically restrained. She appeared confused.

Tilly shrugged her shoulders, and offered, “He is kinda… hot… isn’t he? When he’s not on a bad trip? And he’s not heavily medicated. So, I guess if aliens were looking for a Baby Daddy for a slave race, he’d be a candidate. But for the time that I’ve known him, he’s never mentioned aliens. He did mention when he had the soup that the seasonings were off…”

The doctor gave him a professional scan. She reviewed the reading and shook her head.

“Ok, Mr. Hottie got slipped some really bad drugs and they’re pretty potent. We need to run some tests, find out exactly what the hell he was given and how to get them out of his system. We need to sober him up before the little green aliens arrive for their Wild Stallion.”

At Tilly’s confused look, as well Andorians were BLUE, the ER doc protested, “You don’t really think there are aliens out there that want to use him for breeding stock, do you?”

Tilly looked at the Captain, who was now snoring and drooling.

“Maybe there wasn’t many to choose from at the Sperm Market?” Tilly offered.

* * *

Tilly was sitting next to the Captain when two females walked into the room. One was very familiar, and the other was not. However, the stranger held herself as though she was familiar to complete obedience. She literally oozed authority.

In a good way, so Tilly decided that she would need to emulate her.

“Officer Flannigan!” Tilly exclaimed.

“Red, you two together are a natural disaster, though perhaps he should be the one in a plastic gerbil ball,” the cop stated. “Kat, I appreciate you taking my call. The cops reached out to me when they found my information, and I knew he would need help.”

“You mentioned April and Decker, those two names will always get a hearing with me,” the other woman said. “Help me get him out of those restraints. He has claustrophobia and a touch of merinthophobia so being restrained while on a bad trip…”

Kat exhaled slowly.

“Why is he **_here_**?” the woman asked.

“He’s going to Mojave,” Tilly offered. For a moment, she wished she had NOT brought herself to the woman’s attention as her eyes narrowed. The woman weighed her, decided Tilly’s hair was natural, determined her age and then guestimated her boob size which put her squarely in the category of paid T&A entertainment. “Oh no, we’re **_not_**. Most assuredly **_not_**. He’s **_old _**enough to be my **_father_**. Why does everyone think we’re having sex?”

“Some men are into that,” Flannigan offered. “In fact, all men all.”

“Focus, Red, focus,” Kat announced. “It’s a very long route to Mojave from here. Why is he going to Mojave?”

“He’s visiting his family. He mentioned something about finally finishing the car and he hopes his dad likes it.”

Kat pondered that thought for a bit, and then her eyes narrowed still further.

“You seem to know a great deal about what he’s doing. I’m Kat, longtime friend, current boss of Sleeping Beauty. Red, you tell me exactly what happened.” Her tone implied that Red would spill her guts willingly.

By the time, Tilly had finished telling her story, Kat was struggling not to chuckle. After a moment, she burst out in laughter, “I can’t **_wait _**until he wakes.”

* * *

Post release, the Captain looked haggard and tired. However, he managed to pull himself together enough to apologize sincerely to the few, the proud, the maimed members of the local Police Department.

“Where’s the car?” He asked Tilly. “Is it at the diner?”

“No, I drove it here,” Tilly explained.

“Good,” he stated as he tossed her the keys. “I need to rest so you can drive to the hotel.”

Tilly thought of the clamorous gear shifting she had done, how the car had plaintively protested against her rough handling and protested futilely, “Me?”

“Yes, you. I need to speak to Kat,” he explained.

* * *

After a long “talking at” by a concerned Kat, Chris put on his sunglasses. The sun was bright, after all, plus he was still having visual hallucinations.

“Does your father know you’re coming?” Kat asked.

“I figured I’d let him know when I got closer,” Chris explained. At Kat’s annoyed look, he protested, “Don’t look at me like that. I can handle Josh. I’m sure Willa be glad to see me.”

“Chris?” Kat protested. “You’re bringing Red?”

“Once her bank gets her funds returned, she’s getting a bus ticket home. A ticket that she is paying for,” Chris assured Kat.

“You can’t save everyone, Chris,” Kat protested softly.

“I think this latest incident proves I can’t even take care of myself,” Chris snapped. 

Kat just nodded her head, but Chris could feel her concern radiating off her. He nodded his apology and she… being Kat… accepted it.

* * *

The Captain collapsed into the passenger’s seat and mentioned the hotel that they’d be at for the next two nights. It was a few miles down the road, so it wouldn’t be hard for her to locate. That done, he buckled himself in and then leaned his head back to rest.

She could do this. She could do this. She could start the car.

Tilly psyched herself up to the challenge and reached for the shifter. She made sure her grip was strong and … and… she’d show the stick shift who was BOSS. With a deliberate movement, she grabbed and tugged.

There was a soft expression of pain, and the Captain gasped in a strangled tone, “Wrong stick shift. **_Wrong, wrong, wrong.”_**

* * *

Michael Burnham sat up straight. “**_YOU DID NOT_**,” she protested.

Tilly nodded her head, “I’m kinda hoping that he doesn’t remember that part because of the drugs. That’s possible, right?”

Michael said nothing which said EVERYTHING and Tilly collapsed face forward into her bed. “Oh, fuck my life.”

* * *

“So… Commander. Ensign Sylvia Tilly,” Captain Pike questioned slowly. He was standing in his ready room, where there were NO CHAIRS. Not a single solitary one.

Saru sighed and nodded his head. “I must sincerely apologize for her behavior.”

“No, no need. I found it rather flattering that she admired my nail beds,” Chris insisted, complete with copious use of his dimples that worked on male, female alike. To his sincere disappointment, Saru was a great deal like Una, as his dimples never worked on her either. “She is in the Command Track Program? Awfully young, isn’t she?”

“Yes, in spite of her youth, she was awarded the Star Fleet Medal of Honor,” Saru stated with an almost paternal pride.

“Tell me about our future competition,” Pike requested. “I want to… no… I need to know all about her if I’m to mentor her. I think I better schedule a meeting with young Ensign Sylvia Tilly, Medal of Honor winner.”

Christopher Pike smiled, but inwardly, he was quite alarmed. 

** _God, I hope she’s learned to keep her mouth shut. Knowing her, she’s probably telling someone how she groped me. _ **


	3. To Live and Die in Mojave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, angst has crept into this story.

The Captain collapsed into the passenger’s seat and named the hotel that they’d be at for the next two nights. It was a few miles down the road, so it wouldn’t be hard for her to locate. That done, he buckled himself in and then leaned his head back to rest.

She could do this. She could do this. She could start the car.

Tilly psyched herself up to the challenge and reached for the shifter. She made sure her grip was strong and … and… she’d show the stick shift who was BOSS. With a deliberate movement, she grabbed and tugged.

_ **HARD.** _

There was a soft expression of pain, and the Captain gasped in a strangled tone, “Wrong stick shift. **_Wrong, wrong, wrong.”_**

She let go immediately and his exhalation was one of pure relief.

“Thank you,” the Captain quietly stated. “That was a little too assertive for poor little innocent me. Right, Andy?”

He paused for a bit, as though waiting for an answer. After he ‘heard’ a risqué response, he giggled and leaned his head back.

“Andy’s along for the ride?” Tilly protested. “The doctor said that your ‘trip’ was done.”

“Andy convinced me that unless I wanted to be restrained for the rest of the day, I better pretend I’m sober. I’m glad that I brought him, as he’s promised me that he’s gonna protect my virtue,” Captain informed her. “I know I’m tripping the light fantastic right now, but … I’m not that far gone that… I’d let you take advantage of me…”

He giggled again.

Oh, screw it, he giggled and snorted like a six-year-old boy that had told a bad fart joke.

“Though…it’s been a hell… of a long time since I was groped by a pretty twenty-one-year-old woman. Fact is, I can safely say that this is the first time for me.”

He giggled still harder, until he was in happy tears. Then he tilted his head and turned towards the non-existent back seat, where the non-corporeal Andy the Talking Armadillo and his sombrero sat. Plus, there was probably a mariachi band that consisted of mice playing La Bamba. He wasn’t laughing, instead he appeared displeased.

“Andy, that is just really fucking rude,” he stated. “Either apologize to Red, or get the fuck outta the car.”

He patted Tilly on her head, like she was a puppy and then he glared at Andy. It was a seriously, pissed off glare. 

“Get the fuck outta the car,” he stated. After a standoff that seemed to last hours as he was staring at an abusive armadillo that only he could see; the Captain sank back into his seat.

“I’m sorry that he made that comment about it being your first time, too. That was just… really rude… and I’m sorry,” the Captain apologized. “Sex should be special… not with old man who is drugged and his filter is shot to shit… or aliens who want to use you for nefarious purposes.”

“You talk a lot about aliens and sex,” Tilly commented.

“I’m not supposed to,” Captain admitted. He put two fingers on Tilly’s mouth and leaned towards. “Don’t tell anyone. It's our secret.”

She leaned towards him and whispered, “I don’t think anyone would believe me.”

He nodded his head and giggled hard.

“I have to agree because nobody believes me when I tell them it happened to me.” The Captain turned serious then and he slumped back in his seat. “I don’t know why they don’t believe me. I mean…. Men can get sexually assaulted. It wasn’t like I asked for it. And then all these women that were part of the alien breeding plan were secretly like **_pick me, Chris, pick me_**_._ I never knew that they wanted me like… that… I mean… Una… I trusted her completely as a confidant, but apparently, she just wants me naked. It’s gonna be hard to work with her…”

He giggled, and smirked, “**_Hard_**…”

Then he turned sober, “It’s just… the loss of control… because …. I never consented… never was asked… they just told me what I was gonna do…and when I refused… as I have… morals….”

He pointed his finger at her.

Shakily.

“I have morals… as my father raised me right… so I refused…. So they hurt me. Bad. Over and over… again.”

“Is your name Chris?” Tilly questioned.

“Yes, **_Sylvia_**, my name is Chris,” he assured her. “But you can continue calling me Captain, because I am one, until my papers are processed and I retire. Just need to talk to Josh first, explain what an utter fuck up I am as a Captain, and then he’ll yell at me and tell me to pull myself up by my bootstraps or some shit like that. How he didn’t raise me to be a quitter. Maybe he’ll yell Roosevelt’s Man in the Arena speech at me, then when he’s done, I’ll turn my papers in.”

** _Oh, dear God, he couldn’t be Star Fleet. He couldn’t. Because Star Fleet takes care of their own. They couldn’t just turn him out without any help. Would they? If he is Star Fleet, then I need to take care of him. Oh God, poor Captain Chris, it’s just Cadet Tilly here to help you, but I will. _ **

“You know my name?” Sylvia asked even while Captain Chris muttered, “Now, now, Christopher, the credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood…Credit doesn’t belong to a quitter like you…”

“Yes, Sylvia Tilly, I know your name. I bailed you out, remember? Flannigan told me your name. I like Flannigan, because she has absolutely no desire to see me naked. I’m pretty sure that she and Kat are banging though because I can tell these things…”

“Have you talked to anybody about what happened to you?” Tilly questioned. It would certainly explain how… complicated… the Captain was. Overly protective one moment and then rude and abrupt the next.

“Yes, and Kat told me that I am reacting normally to a series of traumatic events and that if I didn’t take a vacation, she’d lock me up. She would, too. I knew I should have kept those pictures when Philippa drank her under the table. I should never have let Gabe talk me out of it.”

Captain Chris turned serious.

“I don’t wanna be locked up again… I’m claustrophobic…and…”

Tilly managed to drive the car to the hotel while Captain Chris helpfully muttered, “**_SHIFT_**” at the appropriate time when she needed to put the car into a higher gear.

The Captain then handed her one hundred credits once they were safely in the parking lot.

“Spending money for today and tomorrow. Do not spent it all on coffee. Buy food, and just let me sleep, ok? All I ask if that you check on me occasionally and make sure I’m breathing. And if Andy shows up again, don’t let him in.”

* * *

Much to Chris’ intense displeasure, there was no room at the Inn. Well, there were no adjoining rooms as there was some sort of Alien Love Fest happening. Great, there were a dozen blue painted Andorian wannabes running around, and a couple Orion Slave Girls… He shuddered at the sight of them, remembering someone he had had left behind, and savagely crushed that memory.

There was one room, two beds, and he only accepted it because the carpet was tilting crazily and he felt as though he was about to fall into it…. Not on it…. Into it and he wasn’t sure he’d escape its sateen clutches.

He made Red walk in front of him, and he just concentrated on the little snakes she wore. They were hissing at him, but it was a friendly hiss, as though they’d take care of him.

**_Please_**.

** _Chrissssss…. Let ussss help you…. Chrisssssss…. Get sssssome ssssssleeeep. You're getting sssssleeeepy Chrissssssssssss.... Time for a ssssiessstttaaaa._ **

Then they started to sing at him. In a snaky soprano. 

**** ** _Trust in me, just in me_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Shut your eyes and trust in me_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _You can sleep safe and sound_ ** ** _  
_ ** **** **_Knowing I am around_**

** _Slip into silent slumber_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Sailing on a silver mist_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Slowly and surely your senses_ ** ** _  
_ ** **** **_Will cease to resist_**

** _Trust in me, just in me_ ** ** _  
_ ** ** _Shut your eyes and trust in me_ **

There was something about that song that he knew was untrustworthy, but he couldn’t figure out what. Surely Red’s snakes could be trusted? It didn’t matter. He just needed to sleep.

At last they were in the room, and there were two beds. He claimed one by doing a face plant. Thank God, it smelled clean. It was also a nice, safe happy light blue color. No patterns. 

“Hey… let me help you take your shoes off,” Red insisted. “Can you roll onto your back?”

He did but he mumbled something about skipping the light fandango, turning cartwheels 'cross the floor, and the ceiling flying away.

“Hey… Red… thank you for taking care of me,” he whispered. “I’m normally not such a fucking asshole. People used to like me.”

“Hey… you took care of me; I take care of you. I’m sure there are a few people that like you still,” Red assured him.

“No… they just wanna fuck me…” he whispered.

“Well, I like you,” she protested.

“Do you wanna fuck me?” he asked. Plaintively. 

“Ah, **_no_**,” she admitted. "Sorry!"

“Good, because you’re really too young and that entire virgin thing… I’d probably traumatize you,” he mumbled. “I don’t know if I can be gentle anymore... You'd probably scream ... and not in a good way...”

* * *

** _Good God, I guess if you’re a Star Fleet Captain you have to quote esoteric stuff so it confuses the fuck outta your crew. But seriously, what is a light fandango?_ **

The Captain was asleep and she was exhausted so she decided to crawl into her bed. Only after making sure he was breathing, because well, Cadet Tilly had promised. As a Cadet at the Academy, she took her word very seriously.

That done, she closed her eyes and fell asleep quickly.

* * *

Christopher Pike woke in the middle of the night. His head was pounding and his mouth tasted like … well… nothing very pleasant. In fact, it reminded him of that gas planet from which he had to rescue a few Academics.

There was a soft nightlight glowing in the bathroom, so he managed to find his way there. He then took care of business, tossed the shirt he was wearing onto the counter as it smelled like he had worn it for six days straight, and made sure to use the toothpaste. It wasn’t his brand; he couldn’t find a toothbrush but it was enough to put some paste on his finger and use it to kill the worst of the taste. That done, he went back to bed.

The wrong bed, but he wouldn’t find that out until the next time he woke.

When Chris woke the next morning, he felt … human. The bedsheets were ugly, but not psychedelic, and the pictures on the wall (Nice, safe horses) were not talking to him. Nor were they whinnying either.

There was no talking, sombrero wearing armadillo by the name of Andy either.

Thank God.

Problem.

His arm was trapped underneath Red and he was being suffocated by her hair. Rigel hadn’t killed him, Talos IV had only traumatized him, but he’d choke to death on auburn hair. At least, the singing snakes were gone.

Gabe would laugh his ass off.

His father would be horrified and his mother would pray for his soul every night.

Bigger problem.

He couldn’t remember a damn thing about the previous night.

Biggest problem.

Sylvia Tilly had admitted that she was a virgin, and oh dear God, please, please, please, he did not do the honors while in a completely drugged state. Her rear was smack dab against him and being male, being drugged, being a complete and utter sleaze ball and a dozen other things, he was saluting the dawn in the usual fashion.

He’d have to follow Tilly’s lead on what happened between them.

Oh God, if he and Sylvia had been intimate during the night, he had to be a gentleman, and treat her… really well… because she was a nice, sweet kid, who deserved better that have her first time be a huge honking mistake.

Sylvia’s breathing changed and then she rolled towards him.

“Hey,” she whispered.

“Hi,” he answered.

“Last night… was **_amazing_**…” she gushed. Her blue eyes widened in delighted surprise and her smile was dazzling. Her hair, on the other hand, really required sedation and restraints. Perhaps a psych eval?

“Was it?” Chris asked. “We good?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t believe how insatiable you were…” she whispered. “So many times, Chris.”

He swallowed once, twice, three times.

“You ok? You’re not… sore… are you?” Chris fumbled the ball and dropped it in the most spectacular fashion.

“No,” was her shy response. “You were so gentle about it. You thought you couldn't be, but you were so gentle and sweet about it.”

“Good,” he whispered. Then deliberately and carefully, he kissed her on her lips. It was a slow, long open-mouthed kiss, as he let her set the pace.

She seemed uncertain, so he peppered her face with kisses and whispered, “Last night was not just a quick fuck for me. You tell me what you liked, and I’ll do it even more thoroughly today. This relationship can’t last between us, but we can have some fun, make a lot of noise while we can? Let me give you some fond, happy memories?”

He kissed her again, noticed her lack of response so he put more of a concentrated effort into it. Finally, she hesitantly kissed him back. They kissed for a bit, growing more and more passionate, and then he slid his free hand under her shirt. He felt something that he wasn’t expecting and then he ceased and desisted immediately.

She moaned her disappointment and opened her eyes.

“You’re wearing a bra?” He questioned. “I would have removed that last night. We **_didn’t_** last night, did we? This is payback?”

“Don’t be mad,” Sylvia admitted. “I thought you’d realize that I was joking… but I really liked it when you kissed me.”

He should be mad, he should be furious, but instead, he was overwhelming relieved that he hadn’t… fucked her over…

Chris laughed softly. “God, I was so worried that I had done it when I was drugged. Can you roll over a bit, I need my arm back?”

She rolled over and faced the wall. His arm was asleep, and it was cranky about waking up.

“I’m so sorry,” Sylvia whispered. “What with what happened to you… I really shouldn’t have…”

“I mentioned the Talosians?” Chris questioned, even as he rolled her over to face him.

She nodded even as he winced.

“This wasn’t the same, as I made the decision just now, I wasn’t forced into it,” Chris protested softly. “I still had control over the situation. I just don’t understand something, why hasn’t someone snatched you up? You’re smart, you’re cute, your breasts are simply amazing... and you’re really a good, caring person. If I was … ten… fifteen years younger...”

“Good personality, go me!” Tilly stated with a mock cheer. “I talk too much, and I’m awkward as fuck and… I just miss the subtle signals that people send. I mean, look at Romana. I was just so excited to have a friend… that I went along with her idea. I paid for everything… and look what happened…”

“You’re in bed with a man old enough to be your father,” Chris stated with a sly grin. He winked and nodded his head, “So, Red, self-esteem issues?”

“What happened to you? You seem… different,” Tilly asked.

“I guess I had a breakthrough on my Vision Quest thanks to Louie’s Diner.” Chris stated. “I could have done without the snarky armadillo and the various musical ensembles. I know what I need to do now, I just have to speak with Josh first.”

She nodded her understanding.

“You’re quitting?” she asked softly. “You mentioned something while you were Vision Questing.”

“Yeah, I’m tired. The last few years have been rough, and I don’t recognize myself anymore. I’ve turned into someone I don’t like. I need to find the old Chris, not the OLD Chris, but the old Chris. Taking my retirement, get some horses and just hide from responsibility for a while.”

His smile was crooked and he had dimples.

“I like this Old Chris,” she admitted.

“You need a younger Chris,” was his retort. “If I was only younger…”

He sighed and shook his head in tired defeat.

“What would you do?” Sylvia asked. She knew that she was on dangerous grounds, but she found herself not caring. That kiss had awakened something deep within her, something she had always wondered about, but had never guessed that she be lucky enough to experience.

“The younger Chris would...take you out to dinner, maybe dancing, a few drinks and then come back to the hotel with you... and try to do his gentlemanly best by you.”

Chris paused and swallowed. His voice had gone husky and he wasn’t looking at her.

Tilly pressed on, and asked, “What would the older Chris do?”

The Captain swallowed, before he spoke. “You’d be afraid of him. He’d require complete control, because while he craves absolution, he’s too scared of losing control. You'd be frightened, because ... he doesn't know how to be gentle anymore. He's just... scarred and battered....”

“What would the Older Chris do if I willingly gave up control to him?” Sylvia whispered. “I don’t think I’d be afraid of him.”

“He’d seduce you. Tantalizing, slowly…. deliberately... he’d tease you and bring to the brink… then cool you down… and then… bring you to the edge… again… over and over again… until that overclocked mind of yours was reduced to just …. begging him… for release. He’d take … **_hours_**…”

Her breath had quickened because… God, it was so fucking hot to imagine that…

Chris then sat up in bed, and the moment was shot to shit. 

“Time for me to take a long, cold shower, Red.”

* * *

“Time for me to take a long, cold shower, Red,” mumbled Tilly. She yawned and closed her eyes as she was close to falling asleep. Her smile was sleepy but blissful from fond remembrances.

Burnham, however, was not close to falling asleep. Therefore, she decided a strategic retreat to the Mess Hall might be a good idea.

* * *

“Well, I appreciate your introduction to the Discovery, Commander,” Christopher stated. “I’ll see you in the morning for breakfast?”

The Kelpien nodded his head, and Pike smiled. Inwardly, he was still categorizing Saru’s response to his arrival and how the crew was reacting to him.

“I’ll stop at the mess hall, and grab a bite to eat,” Chris stated before he said his goodbyes.

He was quick at names, so he greeted the crew members that he knew, and he also noticed how everyone was ‘nonchalantly’ staring at him with apprising eyes.

It had to be his imagination. They were not staring at his crotch, though those damn pants were formfitting.

Sylvia Tilly could not have possibly informed anyone… everyone… about their previous assignation.

No, no, no. He was being paranoid. Even though everyone was staring at him while he waited in line for the replicators.

And most assuredly, Commander Burnham of the arched eyebrow was not checking out his ass.

“Can I help you Commander?” he questioned as he grabbed his tray of whatever.

“I just looking… for someone,” she explained quickly.

He nodded and beat a quick retreat.

Yes, he held the tray in front of his crotch as a psychic shield.

* * *

“Even though Chris isn’t here, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if we partook in some liquid libation,” Phil stated in Captain Pike's OTHER Ready Room. "I'm glad we kept two chairs. And the bar."

Una wrinkled her nose, which meant she was laughing. Hard.

“What would you recommend, Doctor?” she questioned.

“I believe this is a particularly good year for Scotch,” he suggested, as he poured a glass for Una. “Scotty recommended it. He is a fine engineer but more importantly, an excellent judge of alcohol.”

They clinked their glasses and took an appreciative swallow.

Naturally, Chris has to ruin it by contacting them, so they quickly hid their glasses.

“You two are rummaging through my bar, aren’t you? Don’t open the Scotch,” Pike ordered.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” the evil duo stated in unison.

“You opened it,” he sighed in disappointment as he knew them quite well. “Well, let me grab a drink and we can talk. I need some advice on my new crew. In particular, one crew member.”

“Spock’s sister,” Una guessed while Boyce suggested, “Saru.”

“I wish,” Pike stated. He took a long slow swallow and then stated, “You’ll never guess who is on the Discovery.”

“Well, I can guess the Evil Gabriel Lorca isn’t there,” offered Una. Phil and Una, knowing the truth about their Gabe’s death in the alternative universe, clinked glasses in a silent toast.

“Red,” Pike stated.

“Red?” Phil questioned.

“**_Red_**,” Pike repeated. At their obvious confusion, Pike further explained. “Do you remember after Talos when I went on leave?”

“You were **_ordered_** on leave,” Phil reminded Chris helpfully. His helpfulness earned him a growl from Captain Pike.

“Wait… wait…” Una interrupted. “The red head… from the…. **_bar_** fight?”

“Red? **_Red_** who babysat you while after you overdosed on mescaline and mushrooms?” Phil protested.

“I was **_drugged_** by the short order cook at the Druggie Diner as he threw his stash in the soup when the cops came in for coffee,” Pike protested. “I did not knowingly partake in mescaline and mushrooms. I certainly wouldn’t have taken THAT much.”

Una nodded her head and sipped her Scotch.

“Oh, shit, Red...” Phil stated succinctly. His pithiness earned him Una’s concerned glance.

“He knows something that I don’t about you and Red,” Una stated. She looked at Phil and then she peered at Chris. The uneasy look on Chris' face meant only one thing. “Chris… you **_did not_** have **_sex_** with her, **_did you_**?”

“I refuse to answer that on the grounds it may embarrass the young lady involved,” which was Pike’s non-answer.

“I’ll take that as fucking yes, you fucked,” Una commented dryly.

“She’s on the ship, which means… **_cadet_**?” Phil estimated. 

“Ensign. Star Fleet Medal of Honor winner. Command Training Program enrollee,” Pike stated.

“I’m assuming you’re planning on your usual, thoroughly exhaustive hands-on-mentoring?” Una quipped.


	4. The Real World Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY Fiona. Song is New World Man by Rush

_ He's a rebel and a runner _ _   
_ _ He's a signal turning green _ _   
_ _ He's a restless young romantic _ _   
_ __ Wants to run the big machine

After they’d both showered and changed, the Captain treated Tilly to lunch at the hotel. The various alien wannabes still circulated in full regalia and their garish presence seemed to irritate the Captain. Especially the Orion Slave Girl impersonators, who had met up with even more assorted Orion Slave Girls and had formed a literal conclave of a dozen and more Green Orion Slave Girls. 

There was jingling, there was jangling, there were copious amounts of green skin on display and the Captain steadily ignored them with an iron-willed determination.

“So, I’ll skip the soup today,” he informed Tilly with a slight smile and head nod which meant he was feeling playful. “Do you have any recommendations or suggestions?”

“You should really smile more often,” Tilly recommended. “That’s my suggestion.”

Definite crooked grin with dimples then.

“I was referencing the menu,” he stated.

“Oh, I would love it if  ** _you_ ** were the  ** _special_ ** on my menu,” cooed an Orion Slave girl. She placed her hands on the Captain and he grimaced in true distaste.

“Please do not touch me,” he stated. He then looked at Tilly and attempted to continue their conversation. “Do you have any plans for this afternoon?”

“You, you’re  ** _my_ ** plans. Right, ladies?” cooed the lead Orion Slave Girl. She then tried to sit in his lap.

He stood up and dropped the Orion Slave Girl on her nearly naked ass. There was a clatter of dishes as Little Miss Green Orion Slave Girl pulled the tablecloth and the various dishes off the table. 

“Hey!” Little Miss Green Orion Slave Girl protested loudly.

“I asked you rather politely not to touch me. Red, we’ll go eat elsewhere,” he announced in a very authoritative tone. 

“Oh, come on, you can have any of us. Why are you wasting your time on  ** _her_ ** ?” announced another Green Orion Slave Girl. 

Tilly bit her lip, and looked down at her hands. Her cheeks were flame covered as she was mortified.

“I’ve actually met a few  _ real  _ Orion Slave Girls,” the Captain announced in all too quiet room. “I guess you haven’t, if you want to pretend that you’re one. You know they take those girls with potential away from their parents when they’re five. Then for the next ten years, they are ruthlessly trained in the arts of sex and seduction. Then when they’re fifteen, they’re sold off again, to their new master, where they are not permitted to refuse any request. If they try to refuse, they’re whipped until they see the error of their ways. But they’re whipped carefully so it doesn’t leave physical scars.”

Silence.

“And yes, after being presented with  _ real _ Green Orion Slave Girls, who I … REFUSED… to utilize…. I much prefer a real woman, like Red here. There’s not a single thing about her that’s fake. Honesty is significantly sexier than skimpy clothes and green body paint. Her humanity, her compassion and her morality make her significantly sexier than your lack of clothes, green body paint and dearth of self-respect. I do not understand how any woman with any speck of  ** _dignity_ ** wants to  ** _pretend_ ** to be an Orion Slave Girl.”

“I’m  ** _not_ ** the type of man who utilizes Orion Slave girls,” the Captain stated quietly. He shivered in disgust.

The Captain walked out and Tilly followed him quickly. 

“Red? Please tell me that I did not make that fake Green Orion Slave Girl cry, did I?” the Captain sighed. 

“Not just her. The entire group. They didn’t use the right body paint, so the green paint is running,” Tilly informed him. She kept her tone clinical even as the Captain growled. Behind them there was a pack of teary, green streaked women.

He placed his hands over his eyes and he shook his head in tired defeat. “Great job, Chris. You just made a pack of hormonal teenagers cry. Better get packed, Red. The manager will kick us out of the hotel. There’s more of them than there are us, plus we’re wearing significantly more clothes.”

In a softer voice, Tilly added, “You didn’t need to defend me.”

“I did, I would, and I will,” the Captain informed Tilly. “What they said wasn’t nice, nor was it true.”

“It’s true,” Tilly admitted. “You could have winked at them and they would have lined up for you.”

Left completely unvoiced was Tilly’s firm conviction that if he winked at her, she would probably strip then and there in the hotel lobby. 

The Captain shivered in disgust once again. “I’m really  _ not _ the type of man that’s into Orion Slave girls,” the Captain stated quietly. 

She nodded her head, even while she looked at her feet.

“Hey, Red?” The Captain placed two fingers under her chin and forced eye contact. “When I’m talking to you, I’d like you to make eye contact.”

“Yes, Sir,” she mumbled. She told herself that Chris thought her embarrassment was causing her to blush, not because she got hot and bothered by him touching her.

** _I AM SUCH A LOSER! HE’S SO FUCKING HOT!_ **

“When I got dosed with ‘shrooms and cactus, you didn’t cut and run. Decency, loyalty and steadfastness mean a great deal to me. Those characteristics are far ‘sexier’ than the cheap thrills they were offering.” The Captain exhaled loudly. “We’ll continue this conversation in the car, as here comes the hotel manager.”

“Sir?” The manager appeared apologetic. “Can you come to the front desk, Sir?”

“Problem with my card?” the Captain quipped.

“I’m afraid so,” the manager murmured.

“Funny, I paid cash,” was the lightning fast retort. “The Greenies complained? I get it, they pay the hotel a great deal of money to run around in green body paint. So, the fact that I was the victim of assault and battery by one of them means absolutely nothing to you, does it?” 

Tilly closed her mouth as the moderately even-tempered Captain had been replaced by THE CAPTAIN. (Well, easy-going compared to THE CAPTAIN who was rather intense and terrifying. She had vague recollections of THE CAPTAIN rescuing her sorry ass at the bar.)

“Sir,” the manager protested, complete with a fake laugh that the Captain mimicked mockingly. “Surely you jest. She was merely being playful.”

“I am not jesting. Per Universal Common Law, assault is an intentional act by one person that creates an apprehension in another of an imminent harmful or offensive contact. Battery is the tort of intentionally and voluntarily bringing about an unconsented harmful or offensive contact with a person or to something closely associated with them. Unlike assault, which is merely the fear of imminent contact that may support a civil claim, battery involves an actual contact between the victim and the criminal. I asked Green Girl not to touch me. Instead, she decided to insult my friend and then plopped her naked, green ass in my lap. That contact was quite utterly offensive to me.” 

A stare off commenced. Tilly swore that she saw pee dribbling down the manager’s leg. 

“I want a full refund and I will  ** _not_ ** call the cops.”

The manager began to agree but the Captain continued, “Plus I need a hotel room for tonight. That you will pay for. I don’t care what you have to do, how much you have to pay, but I am recovering from an accidental poisoning and I am in no condition to search for a hotel room.”

The hotel manager began to protest.

“Very well then, I will call the cops and have charges pressed against her.”

“She’s the mayor’s daughter, I doubt that the police will agree with your interpretation.”

“Try me,” the Captain whispered that threat.

* * *

“You up to driving?” the Captain asked her after he placed the last of luggage in the trunk. “I’m not up to it yet. I was hoping to get another day’s rest, but instead I managed to get us thrown out of the hotel.”

He shook his head and smiled. “Kat would be so proud of me. I’m delegating as I’m asking you to drive. Apparently, the hotel is several hours away as the alien convention has infested all the local hotels.”

Tilly grimaced at the thought of driving the car, but it was much easier this time. She developed a bit more ease in driving as the Captain didn’t have to yell “Shift!” at her quite so often.

They drove in silence for a bit before the Captain suggested that they pull over for lunch.

“I want to ask you a question,” he stated after they had placed their order. “You have the right to refuse to answer this, but it’s been bothering me more and more lately.”

“Yes, my hair is naturally curly,” Tilly stated. “But I touched up the auburn recently. Red heads fade quickly.”

He grinned, a true grin and he nodded his head. “Not quite what I wanted to ask.”

He waited until the waiter returned with their drinks. He held out his ice tea and raised it to her. “To better adventures for the both of us, Sylvia.”

“Agreed, Chris,” she answered. He shot her a quick smile before he took a sip. When he was done, he placed the drink on the table and leaned towards her.

“Normally, I would ask Una this question, but she’s off with Phil, no doubt merrily causing universal chaos. I might even have asked Phil this question as he was married,” Chris confessed. 

“He was? With that personality?” Sylvia quipped. She grimaced which earned her a warm smile. 

“Yes. Divorced. He was a pediatrician originally. Yes, at one time he didn’t scare small children.”

Tilly expressed her doubts loudly which caused another grin.

“You are refreshingly real and filter free. I find that quite soothing. You’re genuine,, so I trust that you will be honest. I need an answer, to make some sort of sense of recent events. My question is, why would any woman want to pretend to be an Orion Slave Girl? I knew someone who masqueraded as one… but she was forced into it,” he stated. The warmth was gone, and his eyes were focused on a painful past. 

“The aliens again?” Tilly questioned.

“I’m not supposed to talk about them, but you heard me during my Vision Quest. Yeah, the aliens again. I’m not certifiable, I’m not crazy, it really happened. She was forced into it. I  ** _believe_ ** that  ** _sincerely_ ** , but… those girls were running around, quite happy to be pretending to be Orion Slave girls. As a female, can you explain to me why any woman would want to be one?”

Their meals arrived then, and Tilly thanked the waiter.

When the waiter left, she leaned towards Chris. “It’s apparent that they don’t really understand what an Orion Slave Girl represents. I think… they have this idea that Orion Slave Girls – no mortal man can resist them, so they want…. They want a partner who is just wild with desire for them. They just think that everything is consensual and safe. They get to play out their sexual fantasies in a safe way.”

Chris shuddered and began to eat his meal. After a few minutes, he asked, “And what about you, Red? Is that what you want?”

She blushed and looked at her burger, “I never thought about it.”

He looked at her, and then prompted, “Why?”

“I just figured it’s not gonna happen. I mean, I’m weird, I’m talk too much… I mean, it’s not like anyone has ever expressed an interest in anything besides my brains. Oh, and my tits,” she admitted that titty tidbit straightforwardly which caused Chris to flush. 

“I remember warning you that you should be very glad that I’m the Old Chris, not the Young Chris,” he reminded her gently. “The Young Chris would be quite willing to admire your breasts up close and personal.”

He dimpled and winked. 

To say that Sylvia was confused, was an understatement. Was he flirting with her?

“And I remember saying that I’d give up … control… to you…. as you need to feel safe,” Tilly whispered.

“Don’t you deserve to feel sheltered and protected?” was his response.

“I would,” was her very soft response. “Because you have been nothing but protective this entire experience. Why would it be any different then?”

“Because I’m fucked up in the head. What they did to me,” he ceased talking.

“What  ** _she_ ** did to  ** _you_ ** ,” Tilly stated.

“She was an innocent. They used her, forced her to do those things, I know,” he whispered. “They made her act like an Orion Slave Girl. They made her dance for me, and then when I didn’t respond, they threatened to whip her.”

“And maybe… just… maybe… she  ** _did_ ** want you because you were kind and compassionate. Perhaps, she thought if it had to be someone, at least you aren’t cruel.”

“I am very cruel,” he protested. “I left her with them.”

“Did she want to leave?” Tilly questioned.

He shook his head. “I should have tried harder, convinced her to leave. She insisted on staying. She needed the fantasy they offered, rather than the harsh reality I could give her. I think that she felt that the illusion of her appearance was more important to me that who she really was.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re saying, but you can’t save everyone, Chris. You can’t save people who don’t wish to be saved.” Guided by a feeling she couldn’t explain, she reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. 

To her surprise, Chris held on her hand. He brought it to his lips and he kissed it. His lips were soft and Sylvia felt a quiver within. 

“You’re amazing,” he informed her even as he held on to her hand. “I’m wondering who really rescued who on this little sabbatical?”

“I’m not amazing,” she protested.

“If I was only twenty years younger…” he whispered. “I’d  ** _prove_ ** to you that you’re amazing.”

“You still can,” she offered. Her face turned red as she explained, “It would be easier with the Older Chris, rather than the Young Chris.”

“I don’t understand,” he protested.

“I’d fear disappointing the Young Chris. He’d have expectations and I’d be nervous that I’d disappoint him. With you, you’d be in charge and I wouldn’t …. I’d feel less… worried about not meeting your expectations... because I would be awkward. However, I’d  ** _balance _ ** my awkwardness with extreme  ** _enthusiasm…_ ** .” 

That verbal bombardment earned her another smile. Chris leaned towards her, and for the first time, she saw the silver sheen of salt and pepper in his hair. Not a great deal, but he was too young to be going gray. “Are you…” he paused as he struggled to voice his question.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she blurted. She pulled her hand away from him, and she cringed in utter mortification. “It’s my filter, I don’t have one.”

“I didn’t say no,” he chastised her, gently and yes… fondly. “It’s a very sweet and generous offer…”

She put both hands over her face and collapsed face forward onto the table. She muttered, “Oh My God, can I just die now?”

“I was about to say that I’d be… very honored… and that we’d go at your pace and your comfort level. With the spoken understanding that you’d have the ability to put the brakes on at any time.” 

Sylvia looked up from the table and she seemed quite confused. 

“I am  ** _dead_ ** , aren’t I? I must have died from the drug overdose. Because this must be heaven, as there’s no fucking way…some fucking McHotty would want...”

“Yes, I agreed,” he interrupted her. “But I want to do this right with you. Seriously, why hasn’t someone snatched you up? I would have enjoyed knowing you when I was younger.”

Christopher Pike was on very dangerous grounds. He wasn’t in a good space, mentally, as he felt burnout and dead inside, but Sylvia was so fucking real, so vibrant, so blazing. No dissembling, she simply wasn’t capable of it, with her mouth that had never, ever known a filter. Even Una, the woman he knew best, had a facade that she hid her ‘freakiness’ behind. 

And let’s be honest, if just to himself, it was… an ego boost to think that a twenty one year female thought he was attractive.

“I’m in school for engineering. I want to the best I can be, so I have to focus on that. I don’t have time for the three F’s.”

“The three Fs?” Chris asked. He liked Sylvia, as she amused him, but God knows she took leaps and bounds in their conversation that he couldn’t figure out. 

“Fun, frolicking and fucking. As it was, if they hadn’t closed down the campus for break, I would have stayed there and studied. I simply don’t have the time and energy for a relationship.”

“I’m in no condition to have a relationship,” he agreed. “Now, eat, before your meal gets cold.”

They ate in silence, and then Tilly looked up. Chris was staring at her very intensely.

“Do I have spinach in my teeth? Is that why you are staring at me?” She questioned. She put her hand over her mouth in horror, before she mumbled, “I do, don’t I?”

“Actually… I was pondering the best way to seduce you.” he admitted. “I think a slow, deliberate seduction would be best.”

With that, he gave her a wink. 

  
  


_ He's not concerned with yesterday _

_ He knows constant change is here today _

_ He's noble enough to know what's right _

_ But weak enough not to choose it _

_ He's wise enough to win the world _

_ But fool enough to lose it _


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TY Fiona as always.

Michael had to interrupt Tilly’s story. She was Vulcan raised, and she needed an explanation on why Tilly had done what she had done.

“Tilly, you ** _knew _ ** that he was a Star Fleet Captain. Yet you ** _decided _ **to have sex with him?” Michael questioned. 

“I thought the odds of ever seeing him again were pretty poor,” was Tilly’s plaintive explanation. “And you’ve seen him. He’s really fucking hot! Don't you agree?”

“Hot is a subjective term. However, I can see where some might find his physical aspects… pleasing as his face is perfectly symmetrical,” Michael offered.

“You think he’s hot!” Tilly crowed. “You so think he’s hot!”

Michael arched her eyebrow, which fooled Tilly not at all. 

Tilly collapsed back on her bed and mumbled, “At the time, he seemed the guy to do, as well… I was twenty-one, a virgin, he was smoking hot and … now… _**now**_…”

She put her hands over her face. “Do you think maybe he doesn’t remember me?”

Try as she wished, Michael couldn’t lie. Not to Tilly. “I’m pretty sure he does remember you. You're rather unforgettable.”

“Fuck me,” Tilly whimpered. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me.”

* * *

At that very moment, Christopher Pike asked his sounding board and confidants that very same question. “Any chance, she might not remember me?”

Una cackled.

“I’ll take that as highly improbable,” Chris stated in a very serious tone, as he attempted to maintain a professional demeanor.

“More like, HELL NO!” Phil Boyce barked. “It was her 21st Birthday. The cops were involved ** _REPEATEDLY_ **, on at least eight different times.”

“It was only five times that the cops were called,” Pike offered. “In my defense, I did not realize that she was a cadet. At no time, did she inform me that she was attending the Academy.”

His two cohorts in crime cackled. Which meant that the Board of Inquiry was gonna love that excuse.

Well, ** _fuck_ **.

“Seriously, Chris, WHY?” Phil asked. “Why ** _Red_ **?”

** _I was lonely. She was fire and warmth and… I was just so lonely and my soul was frozen. _ **That was just too pathetic to voice, so he just ignored them.

“I think I should arrange a meeting with her,” Pike stated. 

* * *

Meanwhile back at the diner.

“So, what do you want to do today?” the Captain asked Sylvia. His voice was quite low and intense, and she just knew that she was blushing. She looked away from him and shook her head as she couldn’t find her voice.

“Hey? You ok there, Red?” He asked. “You just say, ** _NO_ **, and nothing will happen. I won’t be mad and I’ll stop. Immediately. At any point when you decide you don’t want to go further.”

Red turned to face him and blurted out, “I just can’t believe that you … me…”

He dimpled and then deliberately ran his index finger over her hand. A light touch, nothing more, and Red shivered. Then, he brought her hand to his lips and kissed each of her knuckles. This time, the kisses were slower… she flushed as she wanted nothing more than to knock their dishes to the floor, clamber on top of the table and have Captain McHotty ravish her then and there.

“I can’t… think… when you do that,” she gasped, finally, when she realized that he required a response.

He leaned towards her and whispered, “That’s the idea. If you’re still able to think coherently while I’m trying my best to seduce you, then I need to up my game. You should be able to manage only a few one syllable words such as Chris, no, stop, plus my personal favorites, _**oooh**_… ** _yes_ ** … ** _more_ **…”

The way he accented YES and MORE sent quivers down her back. 

His eyes peered into her very soul and then he admitted softly. “I’m rather looking forward to trying so many…. enjoyable things with you.”

Why? She felt like asking. He could easily have ** _anyone_ ** in his bed.

His fingers were playing with her hand, gently stroking… massaging… her fingers and her palm.

“You seem not to believe me,” he offered.

“Let’s be honest….” Tilly confessed. “Look at you… you could have anyone…”

The Captain blushed and dimpled.

“No, you ** _could_ **… I saw the way the bus boy checked out your ass when we came in,” Tilly explained.

“I don’t want _ anyone, _Red. I want you. I want you because I like the way you say what you think. You don’t filter it… you just say what you want. You wouldn’t fake it… After recent events… you wouldn’t… dissemble… you would be… real…” He paused and then continued in a teasing, confiding tone, “Really, really loud, I hope.”

Definite wink then.

“It’s a nice change from the people I deal with on a regular basis. They repress themselves, and try to force themselves into these little niches out of a sense of meeting expectations. Don’t ever do that, Red.”

“Well, I don’t really know what to expect…” Tilly admitted. 

“I have such lovely ideas….” He offered. “Kissing for one.”

She murmured an appreciative noise.

He leaned towards her and whispered, “A lot of kisses, in a great many different places. I do so enjoy going down on my lovers.”

“Oh…” she whispered.

“Yeah… I’ll take my time… getting you really turned on… I want to bring you to the very edge… cool you down… then bring you closer to the edge ... then delaying it. I have three days in which to get to Mojave, so I have no need to hurry. What do you want to do today?”

“You,” blurted Tilly.

He smiled. Widely. 

“You’re an engineer. I could show you my engine?” Chris offered. 

“Oh yes,” she purred. 

“Ok,” he agreed, easily. “Let’s go outside and I’ll pop the hood.”

Tilly continued to smile, but inwardly, she was perplexed. She wasn’t comfortable with flirting and she wasn’t sure what popping the hood meant. She hoped it wasn’t a crass way to describe that she was losing her v-card. So, a trifle nervous, a trifle exhilarated, she followed Captain McHotty outside, where he literally popped the hood.

On the car.

He motioned her over and he began to explain what was original, what had been retrofitted and what else had been done to restore the car. Well, darn, Tilly thought, but it was still interesting as there had been a great deal of work done on the car. She was an engineer, so questions soon bubbled out of her mouth. He answered what he could, and what he couldn’t, he explained off as having borrowed some mechanical know how from some guy named Scott.

It was during one such detailed explanation, that she realized that Captain McHotty’s hand was on her lower back. And it was most assuredly rubbed her lower back, slowly, teasingly. 

“I hope he likes it,” the Captain quietly stated. His hand was motionless against her back, but possessive.

“You’ve done an incredible job restoring it,” she offered. 

He nodded his head, lost in thoughts and then she realized that he was distracted.

“Come on, let’s get you into the car. However, suntan lotion first,” he informed her. He put some on his hands, rubbed them together to spread the lotion and then began to apply it carefully. 

** _On her. _ **

Neck, ears, face, arms, hands and then very deliberately, very slowly, he applied it to her décolletage.

Twice, so not to miss a spot. 

Then once she was in the car, and after he securely buckled her in, just so, with a slow deliberate tightening of the various belts, including the over the shoulder harness, positioned just so it accented her full breasts. He ran his hands over her breasts, just to make sure she was secure, he claimed, but he did rub each of her nipples to ensure that they were standing tall and saluting him. That done, he moved her sun dress just so… so her upper legs were uncovered. They required a deliberately unhurried application of suntan lotion to ensure every square inch was covered in sunscreen, and his hands went very high indeed.

“You ok?” He questioned. “You looked flushed. I want to make sure you’re comfortable… in my car. It’s pretty old and been rebuilt, but… it’s ** _reliable_ **.”

Red blushed as she assured him, “I trust your… car. It’s very… steadfast… dependable. I’m glad you’re driving as it’s a little too powerful …. For a novice like me to … handle…”

Chris quirked a smile before he assured her, “I bought this from a little old lady who only drove it to religious meetings.”

Tilly tittered. Nervously, he feared.

“Ok, I bought it from her son because she was on a first name basis with most of the local cops due to her need for speed,” he confessed. “He had to sell the car to pay for a really good lawyer.”

That did it, Red laughed. ** _Hard_ **.

“She wanted to get to church early so she could get a back pew,” he insisted.

* * *

The Captain was in complete control of the car. Truth demanded that Tilly admitted that the captain was in complete control of his passenger, too. His starts and his braking were gentle, and his free hand was most assuredly between her legs even as he talked dirty to her.

Oh, nothing horribly crass.

Just assorted comments about the engine throbbing, the barely controlled horsepower under the hood that was rearing to be set free, and a very gentle, teasing hand that boldly went where no man had gone before.

Bastard took his time, teasing her, then delaying, then teasing anew. 

Her universe became hyper focused on what his fingers were doing, their gentle yet intrepid exploration of new, virgin territory, their careful use of thrust to penetrate her darkest space. 

She wondered how he could keep the car on the road with one hand while his other was carrying out such a thorough deep space exploration. Although by this time she probably wouldn’t have noticed if they’d gone off-roading into a black hole. No, not at all, as Tilly could only think about the captain’s warp core. 

The size ... the thrust… oh yes… most assuredly she thought about the captain’s thrusts. The cruising speed….

And the **_payload delivery_**. 

In the back of her awareness, she heard the engines roar even as she was slowly and surely becoming completely undone with a leisurely, practiced ease.

The Bastard knew exactly what he was doing to her, as he grinned at her. It was a shit-eating grin of absolute, proud dimpled delight because she couldn’t even remember her name.

He slowed down then, delaying her take off until a thorough run through of a checklist to confirm that all her systems were go. Then she hit her pinnacle; her universe exploded in a cacophony of bliss. It took her some time to collect her thoughts, to pull together a sentence.

However, there was an annoying distraction that bothered her in her post-orgasmic bliss. The noise was extremely shrill and distracting and it took her some time to focus on why it bothered her as much as it did.

“Are those ** _police sirens_ **?” she managed to gasp.

“Yes, I think I blew through their speed trap, as the cop hid behind some boulders,” he admitted. “I was a little distracted.”

On one hand, that was flattering, on the other hand, there was not just ONE cop car, BUT SEVERAL. As in _**FIVE**_. 

_ **AND A HELICOPTER.** _

“How fast were you going?” she asked, as he slowed down. Always a gentleman, he struggled to rearranged her dress so she appeared respectable. 

“Maybe… twenty miles over the speed limit.”

The police who came to the car belied Chris' claim as they had their weapons drawn.

“Ok, maybe fifty or so miles over the speed limit?” the Captain informed Tilly. “Just a suggestion, rearrange your skirt and then put your hands up in the air.”

Chris raised his hands up in the air to show that he was unarmed. 

He turned his winning smile and dimples on the first officer to reach the car. “Good afternoon, Officer. I do admit that I was speeding just now.”

“GET OUT OF THE CAR! HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM,” roared the cop. 

* * *

“_**W**_**_hat_ ** ?” Michael gasped. “ ** _HOW FAST WAS HE GOING_ **?”

“They clocked him at 132 in a 70 mile per hour zone,” Tilly confessed.

“While he…” Michael gasped. She seemed to be doing a great deal of gasping during this tawdry story.

“He’s very good at multi-tasking?” Tilly offered.

“** _HE GAVE YOU AN ORGASM WHILE HE WAS DRIVING_ **?”

“Well, yes,” Tilly admitted. “He’s very good with his hands? Also, he was a test pilot, so he's comfortable with speed?”

She grimaced as she realized that Michael appeared horribly, horribly affronted as Christopher Pike had merrily shattered the laws of physics.

“**_HE GAVE YOU A HAND JOB WHILE HE WAS DRIVING_** **_SIXTY-TWO MILES OVER THE SPEED LIMIT IN A STANDARD SHIFT CAR?”_**

“Yes, but please don’t mention the stick shift. That comes later… along with everything else.”

* * *

Christopher Pike tapped his PADD. He pulled up the three Command Track Program candidates, reviewed their reviews, performance evaluations and then made appointments to meet each of them. He wouldn’t lie to anyone, but he had a moment’s unease when he set up an appointment with one Ensign Sylvia Tilly.


	6. Chapter 6

While Michael Burnham’s mind imploded at the thought of high speed, guns drawn, police chased induced orgasms, there was a soft *ping* on Tilly’s terminal that announced itself. Tilly rolled over to read it and then she gasped.

**_Loudly_**.

“I have a meeting with …. Captain Pike … tomorrow.”

The proclamation was announced in the same regretful tone as “The surgery was successful but the patient died.”

Tilly rolled onto her stomach and spoke into her pillow, “I am just so fucked.”

To Michael, it sounded like “Sowing… dust… ducks.”

“Can you repeat that?” Michael requested. “Perhaps sans pillow?”

In response, Tilly sat up and enunciated, “I am just so fucked.”

“I think you’re overreacting. He might just want to give you one on one mentoring for the Command Training Program.”

Those that had met a Vulcan swore that the Vulcans, as a race, did not understand the concept of humor. Then there were the people who actually conversed with a Vulcan who acknowledged the Vulcans as the Undisputed Leaders of Deadpan Snark and Sass.

“**_YOU DID NOT JUST SAY THAT!”_** Tilly shrieked.

“I did,” Michael stated and then she arched her eyebrow. “Well? Are you planning on continuing the story?”

Tilly shook her head, her curls flying this way and that. “Where did I leave off? I mentioned the Orion Slave Girl wannabees, the Armadillo…did I mention the car fire?”

By now Michael Burnham was too invested in the tale to prevent her gasp of horror.

“Not the classic car! His father hasn’t seen it yet!”

“No…the classic car made it through this entire adventure unscathed. In fact, Admiral Papa Pike was enthralled with the car,” Tilly assured her roomie.

“**_ADMIRAL_** **_Papa Pike_**?” Michael shook her head and then advised Tilly to get back to her confession.

“We left our hero, Christopher Pike, surrounded by armed cops due to his need for speed,” Tilly stated.

* * *

Chris raised his hands up the air to show that he was unarmed.

He turned his winning smile and dimples on the first police officer to reach the car. “Good afternoon, Officer. I do admit that I was speeding just now.”

In this case, honesty was not the best policy.

“**_GET OUT OF THE CAR! HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM_**,” roared the cop.

Two minutes later, Pike found himself kneeling in the dirty road with his hands secured behind his back. If that wasn’t sufficient, the universes had decided that he needed enough armaments to take down a drunk Klingon grandmother intent on defending her grandchild pointed in his direction. (For those not in the know, that was enough to wipe out a small StarFleet Armada).

He proceeded to give his name, id and other vital information when asked. 

Then he waited.

And waited.

And waited.

And waited still more even as Sylvia Tilly was escorted to the comforts of an airconditioned police vehicle.

“Sarge? The car’s been flagged, along with both their names by the San Francisco Police Department,” one of the junior officers squeaked in a high nasal tone. “Requests that a Flannigan be contacted.”

“Do it.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Pike admitted he was a mite parched as it was high noon on the highway in Chowchilla, California. Then the head cop returned to him and placed a holographic projector plate in front of him.

**_Don’t let it be Kat_**, Pike prayed.

It wasn’t, though it was nearly as bad.

“Captain Pike!” The holographic Flannigan announced in a very displeased tone. “I swear trouble seems to follow you around like drunken Andorian revelers at a fertility festival.”

Wisely, Chris did not ask why it sounded as though she had firsthand experience with rowdy Andorains at a fertility festival. It was no doubt a tawdry tale and he was an innocent preacher’s son from Mojave. 

One had to understand that current circumstances were completely out of the norm.

“Officer Flannigan,” Pike returned the greeting. “I’d wave Hello, but my hands are restrained.”

She bequeathed him an eye roll of such epic proportions, he felt as though Tango had kicked him in the head. 

“Admiral Cornwell managed to convince the Chowchilla Police Department to give you a warning about the need to control your speed as opposed to locking your ass in jail for tonight. I also recommend that you let Sylvia drive for now,” Flannigan ordered.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“I don’t want to hear from you again. Is that understood, Captain?” Flannigan stated.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“If I even hear the name Christopher Pike in the next week, it will be entirely too soon.”

“I was planning on sending you flowers with a thank you card,” he admitted. “I won’t sign it then.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Flannigan snapped. “Get the fucking hell outta my solar system, and get back on your spaceship.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

* * *

Chris sat in the passenger’s seat and waited for Tilly to buckle her seat belt.

“Certainly, life isn’t boring with you around,” he stated.

“Me?” Tilly squeaked.

“You,” he squeaked in a fair impersonation of one Sylvia Tilly. It was though he thought that she was at fault for the latest escapade. "I have met more police officers in the last four days than I have in the last five years."

“You’re the one that broke the sound barrier!”

He gyrated his shoulders and then smirked, “I was a test pilot. I live for speed. Now, if you don’t mind, smile at the nice police officer and let’s take a nice, leisurely ride to our hotel.”

“Problem,” she informed him. “I don’t know where we’re going.”

“It’s about an hour from here. I hope you like sleeping in a yurt,” he stated as he put on his sunglasses.

“A **_yurt_**?” she asked.

“First times should be memorable,” Chris admitted. “I thought a yurt would be…. unforgettable.”

“A **_yurt_**.”

“Round thing?” he stated as he gestured in an all-encompassing gesture. He then pulled up a PADD. “Now time for twenty questions.”

“A yurt?” Tilly repeated.

“Vegetarian or can you appreciate steak?” was the first question.

* * *

“You lost your virginity in a yurt?” Michael interrupted.

“Truth demands that it was a very romantic yurt,” Tilly admitted. “There were rose petals on the bed.”

Michael arched her eyebrow as thought of rose petals on a bedspread seemed so unhygienic. They could end up in bad locations, one could slip and fall due to a rose petal on the floor... 

“Very romantic, Michael,” Tilly explained. “There was chilled champagne, chocolate covered strawberries…. a canopied picnic area… We were able to view the stars through the roof of the yurt.”

“A **_yurt_**,” Michael repeated.

“Pay attention, ok?”

“I am paying attention. You mentioned a **_yurt_**,” Michael reminded her.

* * *

“There’s a market on the left. I need to grab some things,” Chris informed Sylvia after the final question of what had started out as Twenty Innocent Questions about her personal food quirks and then had taken a quick hard, lurid left into Sylvia Tilly’s erotic expectations for the upcoming fucking… err… frolicking.

She nodded her head and pulled into the parking lot. She parked deliberately so there was plenty of wide-open spaces by the car.

“Red? You ok? You’re not embarrassed, are you?” Chris asked as he leaned toward her. “I normally tell people to keep their expectations low, so they’re not disappointed. In this case, I want your hopes sky high and I will do my best to exceed them. When this is over, Red, I want you to have nothing but happy, blissful memories.”

“You really don’t have to make such an effort for me,” Tilly attempted to say but Chris stopped her by the tried and true method of kissing her.

Closed mouth first and then when she opened her mouth, he deepened the kiss.

Her world stopped rotating; it was that stellar a kiss. They had only kissed the one time in the hotel when a confused Chris had been convinced that they had sex the previous night. This time, he put a considerable effort into it.

Chris pulled away and then whispered in a very amused tone, “Breathe, Red. Else you’ll pass out.”

“I’ve … never… been… **_kissed_** … like that before!” she gasped.

The bastard dimpled. He KNEW how they affected her…. He used those dimples as weapons of mass seduction.

“Now, serious conversation time. I want to make this effort with you because you deserve it. Now, if that’s not a good enough reason for you, then let me add the guilt factor. I … need… to make this effort with you, because… I need to prove to myself… that I’m… capable…. After what happened to me…,” Chris stopped talking then and grimaced.

He looked away, stared a distant planet that only he could see and then turned back to her.

“Let me spoil you. Let me give you fantastic memories. I want you… the future you… to be able to get drunk and **_brag_** ... to your jealous friends.”

Chris smiled then. With a great deal of honesty sincerity.

* * *

“It appears he did,” Michael Burnham inserted after Tilly had paused in the midst of her remembrances.

“Do you want more details? I can stop now,” Tilly offered.

Michael glared and decided the best defense was an offense. She threw her pillow at Tilly who managed to bat it away.

“On a serious note, you won’t mention the entire fathering a slave race bit to him, will you?” Tilly pleaded. “It seems to be a bit of a sore spot with him.”

Michael just arched her eyebrow, and wished she had another pillow projectile handy.

* * *

Tilly being inquisitive, decided to follow Chris into the store, as she still had money in her pockets. She bought an iced quadruple espresso and then found Christopher Pike in the Personal Protection aisle. He looked at the assorted items with some disebelief and shook his head.

“Really, what is it with this sizing bullshit?” Pike quipped. He picked up several items and then walked toward the cashier.

He paid quickly and Sylvia trailed after him.

“What did you buy?” she asked as he collapsed into the driver’s seat.

“Riding crop,” he stated in a very matter of fact tone.

Her jaw dropped even as he grinned at her response.

“Some not very sexy essentials,” he admitted as he put on his sunglasses. “Lubricant just to make sure you’re comfortable. Some condoms so I can delay myself to make sure you’re satisfied. A couple towels we can toss, if things get messy.”

When they arrived at the yurt lobby, Chris made her stay with the luggage while he handed the details. When he was done, he escorted her to the transporter pad.

“Transporter pad?” she asked even as they beamed away.

She stepped off the transporter pad and looked around her. She noticed the most important thing immediately and commented, “This is **_not_** a yurt.”

“No, it’s not. I just really enjoyed the horrified look on your face whenever I said, ‘Yurt’,” Chris admitted. His face was crinkled in a smile as he was inordinately pleased with himself. “Yurts are nice; however, I am detecting that you are not a fan of yurts. Tell me, what has an innocent yurt ever done to you?”

“It’s a **_suite_**,” she murmured.

“It’s actually a cabin. All ours for the next two days. Most importantly, it’s got a full-size bed in a separate bedroom, so you can say no at any time. Oh, and for the record, there is a **_yurt_** on the property. It has an open ceiling so we can look at the stars if you’re interested.”

“This is not a cabin. Cabin are small and made of wood. This…” Tilly whispered. “That’s a hot tub.”

Chris nodded and held out his hand. She took it gingerly, and he began to stroke her thumb with a long sweeping motion. “Want a tour? There should be champagne in the kitchen.”

The champagne was not in the gourmet kitchen even though Chris checked the refrigerator. It was not by the his and her soaking tubs that overlooked the lake. It was not in the living room with the majestic view of the valley…. And not in the bathroom with the very large shower with the multiple jets and the rain forest shower head.

It was however, sitting in an ice bucket in the larger of the two bedrooms. Next to it was a plate of chocolate covered strawberries which was inside the entwining hearts made of rose petals on the bed spread.

It was a fucking huge bed and… and…

“You look scared,” he said quietly. He radiated a deep sincerity. “Talk.”

“You’ve spent so much on this,” she protested. “The yurt would have been so much cheaper.”

“But not as nice,” Chris stated. “Rather tacky in fact. I don’t really spend my pay, except when I splurge on my nephews, so I figured, I wanted to splurge it all on you. That girl who was wearing dental floss and a gauze pad when we first met… she took advantage of you… I thought… you deserved something… beyond your expectations. Let me spoil you for the next two days, Red. Let me make up for being an utter asshole when we first met.”

His puppy dog eyes and his sincerity pushed Tilly into agreeing.

“Champagne?” he offered.

She nodded, shyly.

“I’m hearing a lot less syllables from you right now. Are you panicking?” was his next question. He tilted his head and seemingly peered into her soul. He saw her unspoken answer and he nodded his head.

“A little,” she admitted.

Seriously, what was her problem?

“It’s a big step,” was his easy acceptance. “I don’t understand why you’re panicking. I’m the one having severe performance anxiety.”

He had the champagne bottle in his hands, and he struggled with opening it.

“Really?” She asked. “I find that hard to believe.”

“Oh yes, severe anxiety. I mean, you’re significantly younger than I am. I’m older. There’s something called a refractory period… and… why can’t I open this damn bottle?”

The champagne cork then popped and champagne began to flow. He jumped back and tried to aim the surging spray towards the sink.

“Glasses!” Chris yelped even as Sylvia laughed. “Really? You’re laughing as I popped my cork too early. That does not help my performance anxiety.”

He mock growled at her and she continued to laugh. She maneuvered the glasses quickly into position and Chris poured the champagne. The flow of champagne managed, he then raised his glass in a toast.

“To your laughter and to your smiles. I haven’t… felt… this… alive… in some time. It’s all due to you, Red.”

They tapped their glasses and then they savored the champagne.

“Red, I just want you to understand. It’s perfectly fine to say, stop. You can say it, I can say it,” Chris assured her. “You need to understand after what I’ve been through… this is a big step for me also. To permit myself to be… vulnerable… emotionally naked, if you will, with another human being.”

She giggled and Chris dimpled.

So, no harm, no foul.

“I love hearing you laugh,” he confessed. He then looked away from her as though he was still nervous after that moment of emotional intimacy. “Anyway, I am assuming that you might be hungry? They made a picnic basket for us.”

“A picnic?” she asked.

“I know, it’s a little too chilly to eat it by the lake. Too bad, maybe I could have convinced you to do some skinny dipping?”

Definite wink, with a copious amount of dimple action.

“I’ll get the living room set up, and if you could restrain your hair, that would be appreciated.”

“My hair?” She asked even as one hand reached for it, instinctively, compulsively.

“I’d like not to worry about choking on it when I’m nuzzling your neck,” Chris explained. “Kinda hard to explain, though if I were dead, well, you’d be the one to have to do the ‘splaining.”

* * *

Containing her hair was the easy part. Deciding what to wear, well, that was the hard decision. When this entire misadventure had started, Sylvia Tilly had not even an inkling that she’d land a really hot STAR FLEET CAPTAIN and have sex, so she had nothing sexy to wear. After far too long, she picked something that didn’t scream Star Fleet Academy Standard Issue and decided to wear that.

Then she decided to be bold, and she decided to go braless. The amount of structural integrity that went into her bra was rather formidable. The effort required to remove it might prove mood-crushing because… well… it was white… it was … blah… it was… very much non-sexy.

She found Chris on the floor with the deconstructed picnic basket next to him. Apparently, her concerns over what to wear have given him enough time to start a cozy fire in the fireplace. Chris had his back against the couch, his long legs spread apart and he had his eyes closed. He had changed also, into something… cozy… and a battered t-shirt, so she felt a little better about what she was wearing.

Ok, lie, lie, lie.

Chris opened his eyes and motioned for to take a seat next to him.

Ok, not next to him, but between his legs.

Naturally, she was clumsy and awkward but Chris said not a word until she was positioned.

“Lean back against me, and just relax,” he whispered. “Let me take care of you.”

He kissed the side of her neck even as she sighed in complete and utter delight.

“Have a strawberry,” was his whispered suggestion.

She nibbled at the delicacy even as Chris’ hand slid beneath her shirt.

"No bra?" he asked. "You thought I wouldn't be able to unhook it in a smooth and seductive manner, did you?"

* * *

Syliva Tilly stopped her narrative.

“Tha picnic was so erotic, the entire indoor picnic in front of the fire place….” She admitted with a very happy blush. “I just felt so safe with him. I know you have a lot more sexual experience than I do, but … I felt… cherished? That it wasn’t just… really great sex… though truth demands that he ensured multiple orgasms every single time for me… but that… he was just… so considerate about everything. Though don’t get me wrong, the man is a bit of a tease.”

Michael thought of Voq… Ash… and ignored the very unVulcan flash of jealousy.

“Ok, truth also demands that I admit that he is more than a bit of a tease. He’s a goddamn tormentor when it comes to sexual pleasure in the best possible way. Michael, he’s ruined me, because nobody since then has compared to him. Male. Female. Human. Alien. And now, he’s here, on the Discovery, and Christ… I’ll be lusting after him.”

Tilly admitted that and placed both hands over her eyes in a dramatic fashion.

“I’m sure there are others out there that have similar sexual expertise,” Michael hesitantly offered as she was quite aware that she possessed far less sexual experience than Tilly assumed. “I would recommend that you attempt to focus on his other attributes.”

Michael made no attempt to dodge the pillow that was flung in her direction.

“He is a highly decorated Star Fleet officer; you could learn a great deal from him. Diplomacy. Strategy,” Michael floundered but still attempted to continue on.

“It’s not that. It’s just… I felt… special,” Tilly admitted. “He just focused on me. Completely.”

Another loud exhale and Tilly shook her head.

“I’m gonna make an idiot out of myself in front of him. What am I saying, I mean, I did act like I’m an idiot. I mentioned his nailbeds, I mentioned his pinkie! I showed his GRADES from the Academy to everyone. Everyone in the ship knows he got a big, red F in astrophysics. I need to talk to him now. I had a chance to make a good impression on Captain Christopher Pike and I fucking blew it!”

Tilly rolled over to her terminal and requested a meeting with Captain Pike.

** _Then and there. _ **

Before Burnham could tell her that it was a very bad idea.

** _Ping._ **

Tired, male voice answered. “This is Captain Pike. I know most engineers lose track of time, but Ensign Tilly, you**_ do_** know that it is the middle of Delta shift? You’re requesting a meeting **_now_**?”

“Yes, Sir,” Tilly stated. Her voice was shaky as she was that nervous.

“See you in my ready room in fifteen. Pike out.”


End file.
